


Perfect Sinners

by UnwillingDevil



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994), Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bickering, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, M/M, Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Roommates, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnwillingDevil/pseuds/UnwillingDevil
Summary: Modern day AU. After Louis burns down his plantation house, Lestat never makes Claudia. Instead, he decides the way to save their relationship is to move together to New York City and live in a shared apartment with Armand and Marius. Worst decision ever? Probably.
Relationships: Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt, Armand/Louis de Pointe du Lac, Armand/Marius de Romanus, Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac
Comments: 58
Kudos: 54





	1. Three's a Crowd

Louis sat in one of the comfortable armchairs in the expansive living room of the Tribeca apartment. His new home after he’d so desperately burned his family home in Louisiana. Lestat’s friend, Armand’s home. The one frequently visited by the ancient vampire called Marius, about whom Louis had only been offered such vague explanations by his maker after the fire.

After a week in this city, Louis still wasn't sure if he even enjoyed New York. The mix of smells, sounds, and lights overwhelmed him, and it seemed as if silence would forever more be a distant memory. In one hand, he clutched his journal while he scrawled busily with the other. To write his woes was to both preserve them and release them from his mind.

From the doorway, Armand surveyed him coolly, arms folded as he leaned against the oak door frame. He didn't dare to read his mind, never Louis's. He respected him far too much for that. But a clairvoyant was an unnecessary medium for perceiving the other's current discontent. It had taken centuries for Armand to learn the nuances well enough to distinguish between general countenance and unusual aimlessness, and even now he was out of practice.

Sensing the presence of another, Louis turned his head. He was half expecting Lestat to come interrupt him for sport, and so he was surprised to see Armand.

"You'll come to like it here, with time," Armand offered softly. He had lived in this apartment for a year since leaving the theatre behind in Paris, but Louis somehow unconsciously made him feel almost like an intruder in his own home. Would Louis think him welcome company? "It is _his_ scene, not yours. I appreciate that. But it is nice to have you nevertheless."

"Do you make a habit of reading other’s journals?" Louis asked sharply, covering the page he assumed Armand saw over his shoulder, although the annoyance in his tone wasn't exactly aimed at Armand. Louis had enough emotional awareness to see that this invasion of privacy was out of concern.

If Armand were prone to reaction, he might have winced. Inwardly he did. He should have been loathe to be spoken to in such a manner in his own abode, considering he had taken Louis and Lestat in of his own accord, with no encouragement from Marius. But he did not care. He would take the abuse from Louis, he would take anything from him. "I did not need to read anything, Louis. It's etched all over you. Your face, your body language."

The realization that his expressions betrayed him made Louis become self conscious. More so than usual. He moved a hand to his hair and pushed a strand behind his ear. "I’m not so sure about liking it here,” he admitted. “The noise is difficult to tolerate. I don't know if I can." 

Armand hesitated, not willing to push Louis's tolerance too far. "Denis is thrilled at the prospect of getting to know you. He is a quiet soul, you will like him." He paused to watch the rain on the window. To a mortal, it would have been naught but a light tap, a speckling. Pleasant in the wake of good company and a warm room. But to Armand it was a hammering, invading the silence.

Louis placed his pen in his journal and shut the book over it, intending to show he was open to the idea of meeting a kindred spirit.

Encouraged, Armand sat in the opposite armchair to face him. "Denis thinks Lestat will irritate him. That the two of you will discuss literature well into the night, and Lestat will be somewhat of an annoyance to you." Armand smirked, almost imperceptibly. "I am of the mind that he will fall in love with him most of all."

Louis’s gaze followed each of Armand’s movements, now hyper-aware of his own microexpressions. How his own brows furrowed in confusion. "With Lestat?" he asked. A twinge of jealousy reared its ugly head within him, although he wasn't quite able to pinpoint why. Lestat frustrated him on the worst of days and annoyed him on the best. Why would he be jealous if someone else craved Lestat’s attention?

Before Armand could reply, the humming of a lighthearted tune interrupted them, accompanied by the tapping of an umbrella on the stairwell outside. Lestat entered the apartment, and tossed his umbrella in the corner before throwing his damp coat carelessly over one of the two couches in the living room. At the sight of Louis and Armand sitting there staring at each other so somberly, he laughed as if he couldn’t decide which of them looked more amusing. “What, haven’t either of you gone out?” he asked, ruffling the raindrops out of his hair. “This weather will only get worse, you know.”

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Louis muttered. His attention was immediately drawn to Lestat. A strange emotion he could not identify took hold of him, but he pushed it down for further analysis later.

Armand spared a casual glance at the damp, discarded coat. Here he was met with a conundrum, although his face would never reveal it. He could leave the items in the hopes that Lestat might later display an ounce of respect and pick up after himself, or tidy them personally and avoid the water damage and odor to his furniture. The latter option would undoubtedly set a precedent of Armand as a little housewife, and fill Lestat with unwarranted satisfaction. Armand wanted to bite his tongue, but this was not in his nature, not with Lestat. "Pick them up and put them away if you're home." His tone remained casual but with a slight edge, leaving no room for argument.

Louis also gestured to Lestat’s coat. "Do you have manners and choose not to use them, or do you claim ignorance to proper behavior?"

Lestat smirked and moved up behind Louis’s chair, resting his arms on the top and leaning against it to look over his head at Armand as he answered them both at once. “You act as if I’ll be staying long at all.” Why put his coat away when he was just going to put it back on again in a few minutes? He shook his head, causing a few unnoticed clinging drops of rainwater slid out of his silken hair to fall onto Louis’s.

"I wish you wouldn't,” Armand quipped. “Five minutes with you is enough to need breathing space." It wasn't malicious, not really. As close to a display of affection as he would get towards Lestat.

Lestat smiled, as if receiving a compliment and then his gaze shifted to Louis’s set aside journal before fixing on Armand again, his eyes narrowing faintly. “You’re not bothering Louis, are you?” he asked, not sounding too serious.

"I am not the one dampening his clothes and wringing his neck with insufferable affection.”

Lestat rolled his eyes. “As if I would ever touch Louis’s neck.” Of course Armand avoided the question. A deep part of Lestat couldn’t suppress the niggling paranoia at what might become of allowing Louis and Armand to get to know each other, but he tried not to let himself dwell on it. Once he’d decided to bring Louis to this place, the situation was set, and now there was nothing to do but enjoy it.

Louis sighed, unable to hide the fact that Lestat’s behavior was at best annoying him. "Regardless, you shouldn't go about ruining the furniture." He paused to tuck his journal beneath him for protection from the splatter from Lestat’s hair. "Tell me, where are you off to now?"

Straightening, Lestat came around the chair so he could finally see Louis too. “Oh, the furniture is made of sterner stuff than you give it credit for.” But Louis’s question had kindled a spark of hope within him, and it flickered in Lestat’s eyes. “Come with me and find out?”

Armand quirked a brow, folding his arms again and shifting for comfort in his chair. Lestat's palpable desperation was amusing enough for him to almost want to play into it, to turn up his charm tenfold and utterly ensnare Louis. As lovely as Louis was, Armand was past all that. He had a higher focus now that Marius was back in his life—whether that be to hate him, to gain closure, or to fall back into his arms, he did not yet know.

Meanwhile, Louis swallowed thickly, his eyes fixated upon his maker. He blushed, hating himself for it. "You know how I feel about surprises,” he said, allowing the annoyance to resonate. “Tell me where you are off to and then I will make a decision based on fact. You know I won't blindly follow you."

Lestat smiled mysteriously as he swiped the remote control for the sound system off an end table. With a click he turned on some music to bring life into the room. The volume was low—they hardly needed much with their preternatural hearing—but it still did the trick. And then he fell comfortably onto one of the sofas. “Well, since this little rain storm has ruined my other plans, I thought I’d take a cab up to that billiards club on 59th and convince the best dressed shark in the place to have a go. Come with me. Wagering on doubles makes it so much more interesting.”

"You want to go to the club in the street up,” Armand interjected. “The people there are more to your taste." Since he’d moved to New York, he had kept to the alleys and skulked, taking only what was necessary. It had been too long since he had made a game of the hunt.

“And what do you know about my taste?” Lestat arched an eyebrow at Armand.

"No thank you,” Louis said. “That is not my scene. I would much prefer to stay in."

A shadow of disappointment fell across Lestat’s eyes, but his gaze drifted up to the ceiling to conceal it. Louis’s “scene” was little more than a hole in the ground, apparently. Even so, Lestat couldn’t help reacting to the judgment in his tone. This again.

The irritation lingered in Louis’s voice as he added, "And would you kindly turn off the music. It is loud enough here without your help."

The music helped drown out the noise of the city, but Lestat would have preferred it on regardless. The only time he’d choose to keep it off was when he was playing the piano himself. He’d hardly had time for that, though, since moving here and experiencing so many fresh excitements. Let Louis turn the music off himself if he minded so much. Lestat tossed the remote carelessly at him, then turned his attention to Armand. “What about you, then, hm? I can promise you a very good time.”

Armand quirked a brow at the proposition. He knew he was second choice…but to be a choice at all was something that he hadn’t considered. He surveyed Louis briefly, relenting his earlier vow and probing his thoughts to discern whether his isolation tactics were deliberate. "I think we could all go," he offered, lightening his tone in encouragement. "Perhaps find a place that suits us all?"

Louis used the remote, turning off the music pointedly before setting down. Though he wouldn't admit it, the sound of the music was better than the city noise. But that would mean Lestat won, and he would never live it down. He exhaled, considering Armand’s offer before relenting, "If we could find a café that is open late, I would not mind a change of scene.”

A dull café did not sound like any sort of a good time to Lestat, and he sighed obviously. He let his head fall back against the couch’s cushions, slinging his leg over its arm. Meanwhile, he eyed Armand with faint suspicion. He couldn’t think of any reason for him to encourage Louis to join them that wasn’t tinged with potential ulterior motives. For that reason alone, he was suddenly disinclined to push the subject. He didn’t bother hiding his suspicion from his mind, either, not caring if Armand picked up on exactly what he was thinking. Let it be a challenge. _I’m watching you._ “Then get your wallet, and let’s go,” he finally said aloud to Louis. They’d need cash for the cab, and Lestat had used up all of his tonight already. He disliked credit cards as a rule; paper trails did not mix well with his usual nightly activities.

Louis sighed. Again he'd have to foot the bill. He stood up, pocketed his journal and walked to his bedroom to get his wallet.

Armand rolled his eyes and stood as well, reaching for the keys on the mantelpiece. "You've got a coat and umbrella,” he said to Lestat. “We'll walk."

Lestat’s eyes followed Louis, but the moment he was gone, Lestat hopped off the couch and crossed to Armand, poking him in the chest and looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “You can walk. Three’s a crowd in a cab, anyway.” His expression then switched abruptly into an enigmatic smirk. “You should have said yes to the billiard hall, Armand. Perhaps another time.” He turned to slip his coat back on and picked up his umbrella.

Louis returned in an unobtrusive coat. "I am ready when you are." He sounded tired more than anything else. "Are you coming also, Armand?"

Lestat thrust his umbrella into Louis’s hand. “Actually use it, please.” Taking a fresh one from the stand, he left the apartment, leaving the two of them to follow him downstairs the street, where he hailed a cab. As late as it had become, most cafés would closed, save for 24-hour ones. Lestat knew of one in the village. Certainly close enough to walk, but not in this weather. Not in these shoes.

Armand smiled passively at Louis, as if speaking would give way to fury. He pocketed his keys and slid his own jacket on, leaving the apartment without a word, inwardly seething at Lestat's audacity. He could not fathom, as he crossed the street, why Lestat had even wanted to move in with him. Was it just to keep a watchful eye on Louis, to keep everyone away from him? Was it borne of some twisted desire to torment Armand? He attempted to keep his head as he left the others behind with their taxi and walked. He had been down this road before. Fighting with Lestat was not what he wanted, and it never ended well, and it was never pretty.

As Armand disappeared into the rain, Louis gave Lestat a disapproving look. "Was that necessary?" he asked as he opened the umbrella. "I know you don't like him. That is no secret. But it doesn't mean you can't be civil."

“I don’t have the foggiest idea what you could mean, Louis. I’m always civil.” As the cab Lestat hailed stopped at the curb, he pulled Louis into the back seat before either of them could get too wet, though the wind made it difficult.

"Armand could very well have joined us," Louis said in a hushed voice as he adjusted himself in the backseat of the cab beside Lestat, accidentally brushing against him in the process. "You know perfectly well that's what I was referring to.”

Lestat didn’t bother with a seat belt as the cab took off, following his instructions. He turned to Louis, frowning in disapproval. “For god’s sake, you’re already a mess.” He lifted a hand to fix Louis’s hair that had blown out of place, and then took off his own Ferrigamo scarf and wrapped it around Louis’s neck. “I suppose that’ll do for a café,” the last word dripped with disdain.

“My hair is fine," he muttered while at the same time leaning into Lestat’s touch. It distracted him enough that he didn't even argue about the scarf.

“As for Armand,” Lestat said with a shrug, “he’s the one who insisted upon walking. I’m simply not fool enough to join him.” But then he became too distracted by how Louis looked in his scarf to continue the thought. Lestat stared at him, the way his silhouette shifted in the flashes of passing street lamps. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I ought to tell the driver to take us uptown after all. What could you do about it now?”

Louis frowned. He kept his gaze forward so as not to let Lestat get to him. "I could refuse to go along. Leave you alone outside your billiard hall."

“Oh?” Lestat leaned closer as if to see him better in the dark of the car’s interior. “Would you do that?” He was close enough that he could feel his own breath bounce off Louis’s cheek. He lifted a hand as if he’d fix another one of Louis’s stray hairs.

Louis shivered in response. He craved the contact of the near touch, and what made it worse was that he knew that Lestat was aware of this. "Lestat..." It was almost a whine.

Lestat abruptly withdrew before actually touching him and flopped back against his own seat again. “Oh, look, we’re already here.” As the cab stopped in front of the café, he slid out the door on his side, calling over his shoulder. “Be sure to tip the driver well, Louis!”


	2. Four's a Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Marius appears!

Armand shook himself dry in as dignified a manner as possible beneath the awning of the 24-hour café. Dashing there at preternatural speed had done little to minimize the effects of the rain. But he’d had another reason to hurry. From blocks away, he had sensed it—the ancient heartbeat, one he knew all too well. There would be no pretenses, no hiding. The bell above the door chimed as he entered and found his maker at a square table near the far wall. Armand took a seat opposite him, saying nothing. Marius’s presence was respite enough.

"Amadeo," Marius greeted, not sounding surprised despite half an attempt to. By now, Marius was certain his fledgling knew he preferred to keep an eye on him. He had been in the neighborhood for the better part of the evening. He didn't need to be told that tension of some sort was brewing among his fledgling and his new house mates, but he was not going to intervene. It wasn't time, and the café atmosphere was soothing. He’d been listening to the music and conversations while clutching a cup of tea he could not drink. The smell, however, reminded him of a more familiar time. "You're wet,” he said, placing his tea cup on the table. “It's not becoming of you. " He took off his coat and offered it to him.

That voice. Though Armand loathed to hear his old name in use, after so many centuries, Marius's voice could still make him weak, soothe as a balm, especially at a time like this. He surveyed the coat for a moment, this thick, red, expensive thing. If he took it, he would establish himself as someone who needed Marius. Though he in part felt that he did, to let Marius know would be catastrophic. On some level, he likely already knew.

With a sigh, Armand declined the coat and moved the soaked hair that plastered to his forehead, raking his eyes over Marius. "You certainly didn't think me being wet was unbecoming in the palazzo baths." He was unsure of why he said it, he hated more than anything to stir up memories of his past. Perhaps it was some attempt at playfulness, to alleviate his mind from his housing situation.

Marius wasn't blind to the inner conflict that his fledgling was experiencing. Part of him found a sort of pride in being needed. And that pride dissipated quickly when the jacket was rejected. Rather than make a scene, he slipped his coat back on. "Yes, I won't deny that. But the palazzo bath was a more appropriate setting,” he said, sounding like a teacher scolding a stubborn pupil.

"Well at least you don't deny it." He smiled weakly, tucking some wet hair behind his ear and looking around the café. Few patrons were there at this late hour, but it was far from empty. He suddenly felt the young man he looked: small, cold, even slightly anxious. What he wanted from this interaction, he didn’t know. Perhaps simply to feel welcome after the previous half an hour.

"I would not deny the truth," Marius said. Although this wasn't exactly a true statement in itself, he spoke in a way that dared the younger man to challenge it, a knowing smirk tugging at corner of his mouth.

Armand's smile broadened ever so slightly, warming Marius’s heart—until the expression was wiped away by the jingling of the bell over the café door. When Lestat entered, every eye in the establishment turned to take notice. Lestat smiled at them in return. Louis came in the door behind him, looking distinctly unsettled. “Where did you bring me?” he asked, making an effort to regain his composure.

"Exactly where you wanted to be," Lestat replied with a glance around the space. A self-satisfied smile touched his lips. "Isn't it?"

Louis looked around. The warmth of the café was palpable and the smell of coffee only added to it. "It is," he agreed. "Thank you Lestat." The gratitude was genuine and honest after his worry they’d end up in some club.

Lestat half hoped Louis's answer would be different in wake the moment they shared in the taxi, but he let the disappointment roll off him as he made his way to Armand and Marius’s table. Louis followed him wordlessly, nodding to Marius, who still intimidated him more than he cared to admit.

Lestat, on the other hand, leaned over to greet Marius with an affectionate embrace before taking the chair to his right. He couldn’t help laughing softly as he took in the state of Armand’s rain-soaked clothes. “Do you have regrets?” he asked him.

"None at all," Armand replied indignantly. "I've even had a gentleman offer me his coat. And look, mine isn't carelessly strewn around a place that isn't mine." He acknowledged Louis with a nod before turning back to Marius. "Louis and Satan's Consort have already taken over my apartment."

As he took the last chair at the table, Louis offered Armand a shy smile to keep from laughing at the reference to Lestat.

Lestat made no such effort though, chuckling lightly. “Satan’s Consort? Wasn’t that your job for three hundred years?”

"He realized you were better at it," Armand retorted.

Lestat caught the waitress’s attention with a charming smile, and she signaled she’d be over in a moment. He returned his attention to Armand, adding without any seriousness, “I’d think you could buy a better coat of your own with all that money I left you.”

The waitress arrived, and since Armand was still without a drink to warm his hands, Lestat took it upon himself to order for him as well as Louis. “Three caramel macchiatos, please, my dear. The biggest, sweetest ones you can make.” He gave the waitress a smile that made her blush before she scampered away. Not a drop of the drinks would be tasted, but he’d chosen them simply because they were the most expensive ones on the menu. Louis would pay for them, of course. It was a pattern they’d both become used to over their five years together that Lestat never gave a moment’s thought to.

"How is this situation working out for you, caro mío?" Marius asked Armand gently.

He shrugged, fighting the visceral urge to blush at Marius’s term of endearment. It had been so long since he had been spoken to in such a way, no less by him. He watched the steam rise from the elder’s tea cup for a moment as he came to terms with it before locking eyes with Marius. "I'm sure it will be fulfilling." He could sense Louis's discomfort due to his unfamiliarity with Marius, and he felt the urge to resolve it. "You are still welcome by the apartment any time. Lord knows Louis could do with some intelligent company." As the waitress returned with their drinks, Armand flashed her his own small smile, pulling out his wallet for what was required.

Louis looked between the other men. He didn't know much of Marius outside the fact that he was ancient and could eliminate him with a glance. What he also had yet to come to terms with was how handsome the man was. Sure, all vampire's were beautiful, but there was something about the older man. As the drink was set before him, Louis's hand was halfway to his own wallet when Armand seemed to be doing the same. He was so used to paying, it took him a moment to process it. "Thank you Armand," he said graciously. It was nice to be treated. Armand acknowledged him with a suggestive wink, making Louis blush as he wrapped his hands around his cup.

As Marius observed the interaction, a fond look touched his eyes when they passed over his fledgling. "I appreciate your hospitality. However, I do not know how long I will remain in town."

The words distracted Lestat too much to notice who paid for what. His hand fell upon Marius’s forearm as if he thought he’d hop up and leave town that very moment. “But you must stay,” he said with quiet insistence before glancing to the others as if expecting them to chime in with immediate agreement. After the way he and Marius had left each other five years ago, to be with him again so soon was more than Lestat could have wished for. He still had so much to talk with him about—all the conversations they were denied by their hasty parting. And so much more now with everything that had happened with Louis since. “Really, you must.”

Although Armand had been aware Marius and Lestat were acquainted, he absolutely hated to observe the attachment between them. Especially the way Lestat’s hand clung to the elder's arm, making Marius feel wanted, needed in just the way he liked. "You are millennia old,” he said to his maker. “What do you have to do that's so important you cannot do it in the next millennia?" He quirked a brow, knowing it wouldn't be enough. Swallowing dryly at Lestat's continued grip on the other, he resented what he needed to add. "You can see that you're wanted, Maestro."

Marius placed a hand over Lestat's as he looked between him and Armand. "Time is not the issue..." He left it there for a moment as he considered the offer. "But you do know me well, Amadeo. I will stay, but only for a while."

Lestat glanced to Armand in appreciation and his whole body relaxed when their combined efforts seemed to succeed. He turned his hand over under Marius’s to clasp his fingers warmly. “Good. That’s settled then.”

Likewise, Lestat was pleased to notice how Louis had been reacting so sanguinely to Armand of all people. It all filled him with hope. Moving here with Louis was a good idea after all. Lestat would make a proper vampire of him yet. He withdrew from Marius to cup his hands around his macchiato, savoring the scent of the hot caramel as he continued, “We have much to discuss, you and I.” He glanced briefly to Louis then back to Marius, implying it was a conversation they needed to have alone.

"I am aware there is much you want to know,” Marius replied. “I value that in a pupil. But what I value even more is patience." He emphasized the last word.

Lestat laughed lightly. “As long as you don’t go running off, my patience is infinite.”

Armand should have been able to see it, accept it, think nothing of it even. And if it had been anyone but Lestat clasping his maker's hand and smiling at him that way, he probably wouldn't have minded. He hated it, and he hated the fact that they had private things to discuss. This was the one man Lestat was not allowed to enthrall, and Armand would fight tooth and nail to ensure it didn't happen. But putting his grievances aside for the moment, Armand allowed Marius's earlier words to sink in. Staying _only for a while_ wasn’t good enough. "You'll stay indefinitely,” he said. “In the apartment. With us. I won't hear a word against it. We'll have one of the extra bedrooms set up for you. Though you'll have to share a room until it is ready."

The thought of Marius being forced to share a room like a peasant made Lestat laugh again, but he stifled it with his hand out of an attempt at respect. His eyes slid back to Louis, but the sight of him squashed his mirth. Lestat did not like how pale he looked in the café’s warm lighting. Did not like it one bit. Even after their reconciliation after the fire consumed their beautiful house in Louisiana, Louis still insisted on subsisting off animals. Lestat should have taken him uptown to hunt after all.

His maker’s disapproving gaze made Louis lower his eyes to the whip cream on his drink. He was aware that he craved, no needed blood. But he was not going to give in and be a monster. He couldn't let himself fall.

"Lestat, your fledgling does not look well," Marius muttered discreetly.

Lestat’s eyes darkened. “He only has himself to blame for that.” Reaching across the table, he pressed a hand against the side of Louis’s jaw, just above the scarf he’d loaned him, startling him with the contrast of temperatures. Louis’s skin felt ice cold, especially after how hot the coffee cup had made Lestat’s own hand. “Hmm Louis, perhaps you ought to take a trip to the dog park before we head home. I'm sure they'll have your vintage of mongrel in this neighborhood.”

And now everyone’s attention was on him, and Louis quickly grew self-conscious. "I will not take a life Lestat. Or someone's beloved hound." He kept his voice low so that only the present company could hear him.

Lestat rolled his eyes, his fingers tapping the hot side of his mug. They’d had this fight so many times before, he knew there was no winning it until Louis found out the truth for himself. _It will be different in New York,_ he kept telling himself.

"Perhaps we should all hunt before we return home," Armand offered as he surveyed Louis. It was really rather worrying how pallid the young vampire looked. "Marius, will you take him through your own hunting method? It is preferable."

Lestat shot Armand a venomous look, but Marius raised a hand in a motion that indicated that they all be quiet. "I am willing to teach,” he said calmly, “if a pupil is willing to learn."

How dare Armand ask Marius to get involved! Even after all the barbs he and Lestat had exchanged tonight, this—this was over the line. Lestat half hoped Marius would take Louis out now so that he could get Armand alone and put him in his place. On the other hand, he almost pitied Marius for even offering to help. Lestat could tell he was only doing it to be polite, not out of any genuine wish. “He is not willing to learn,” Lestat answered for Louis between clenched teeth. “Because he loves to suffer, don’t you Louis? He cherishes every moment of it.”

Armand was almost embarrassed for Lestat, that Marius had to sit there and watch the poisonous, degrading way he spoke to his fledgling. Marius had never spoken to Armand so poisonously. However, he also relished this moment—for Lestat’s true self to be revealed at a time when Marius revered him as the golden child, as everyone revered Lestat when they first met him.

"Let Louis speak for himself," Armand snapped, hands balling to fists beneath the table. "Whether he enjoys to suffer or not, he's had enough of it for having you as a maker and teacher."

Lestat rolled his eyes at Armand’s childishness. “Oh, grow up.” As if Armand wasn’t begging Lestat to be _his_ teacher just fifteen years ago. Lestat had refused then for many reasons, but his utter disinterest in coddling idiot vampires was one of them.

Armand’s eyes blazed. To retort would be to lose himself completely and likely create a legendary scene amongst the mortals that could have them hunted out of New York.

This spotlight on him was insufferable for Louis. He looked from Marius to Lestat and finally Armand, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. Louis was smart enough to see this was more than a fight over his wellbeing. "No thank you, sir," he said quietly to Marius, knowing Lestat would be furious if he accepted and there would be yet another tiff. He had to play his hand wisely. "Armand is right, I can speak for myself…and I will say I don't enjoy suffering. I also do not want to be a monster."

"Enough... all of you," Marius said firmly. "Lestat, if you think that you are responsible enough to have a fledgling of your own, then act like it. Amadeo, while I appreciate your intentions, there are times and places to get involved. This is neither." He paused, feeling his own temper rising, but he was able to control it. "Come, Amadeo.“ He stood to leave. “Show me where I will fit into this apartment of yours." This was an order.

Lestat’s hands clenched around his cup almost hard enough to shatter it. Louis wasn’t an errant child or a disobedient pet, and Lestat resented both Armand and Marius for insulting Louis in such a way by implying Lestat should treat him like one. He let them both know so clearly with thoughts. Louis was an adult, and he made his own decisions. He could do what he wanted and suffer every hour of every night for it if it pleased him. Surely, he couldn’t last much longer this way; he’d see sense on his own soon enough. Lestat wasn’t his nursemaid. That was never the relationship he’d wanted when he made Louis. How could they ever be true partners that way?

“Yes, go,” he said aloud to Armand and Marius, managing to contain his seething outwardly, even though he knew they could both hear it in his mind well enough. “We’ll be back by morning.”

Armand balled his fists and breathed, standing from the table and looking down at Louis. "If you are done with suffering for the night, you are welcome to join us." He smiled past the anger.

"Thank you Armand,” Louis said, wishing to do anything he could do dispel the palpable tension. “But I suppose Lestat requires my presence." His tone was one of reluctance. He truly did not want to kill, but if it would end this spat, he would go along with Lestat.

Armand turned and walked out of the café. His maker followed him. "I appreciate you holding your temper," Marius praised in attempt to calm him. His voice softened as the bell jingled their departure, his tone warmer, "If the offer stands, take me to your flat."


	3. Like the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Lestat address some issues.

Lestat remained silent for a few minutes after Armand and Marius left the café, his fingertips tapping rhythmically against his mug. His gaze fixed on a mortal sitting across the room, working on her computer, but he was not really seeing her as his thoughts turned over. What was Marius’s way of feeding Armand thought so preferable? Could he mean the little drink? Didn’t he know Louis was too young, too weak for that? One whiff of blood and Louis snapped, his vampire nature taking over his otherwise miraculous humanity, unable to stop feeding until his victim was dead. It was a glorious sight to behold, and Lestat dearly missed witnessing it.

Eventually, his eyes shifted to look at Louis, though his head didn’t turn, his expression stiff. “You should have gone with them,” he said. Though his voice was low, his anger had clearly not dissipated in the slightest. “Learned a thing or two from them. Isn’t that why we came here?”

“Yes,” Louis said. “However, I figured it would be best to stick with you.” He hoped the stroke to Lestat’s ego would calm his anger. Louis didn’t feel well in the slightest, his lack of blood catching up to him quickly.

Lestat’s gaze slipped away again, once more fixing on the mortal girl across the café. A lovely young thing, wicked to her core. He would escort her home, take her to bed, put off killing her until just before dawn. What would Louis think of that in all his self-righteousness? “Ah, yes, of course,” he finally replied. “Best to stick with one monster rather than two.” The full coffee cup twisted between his hands. “That was the word you used for us, wasn’t it? But not you, Louis, of course. You’re nothing like the rest of us at all.”

Louis morals were begging him to warn the girl Lestat stared at, yet he stayed put. “We are all monsters, Lestat. We belong in hell.” He stood by this sentiment. His head bowed like a child who is being scolded, too tired to argue.

“If that’s true, then what to do you hope to accomplish by your abstinence now? You’re either a monster or you’re not, Louis. Make up your mind.”

Louis sighed, conflicted. “I do not know,” he admitted shamefully, keeping his voice low. “My body is telling me to succumb...but I don’t want to lose myself.”

Lestat blinked at the unexpected showing of vulnerability, and he softened. Carefully, he reached across the table and put a fingertip on the back of Louis’s hand. Half to get him to meet his eyes, half to test his temperature again. “But is _this_ yourself? This...torment? Don’t you want peace?”

Louis looked up. When their eyes locked, he only felt more vulnerable. “I do want peace. But I don’t know how to find it. How can I sleep knowing I took a life?”

A grim smile touched Lestat’s lips. “Like the dead, Louis. Like the dead.” His fingertip traced one of the fine bones on the back of Louis’s hand before he withdrew and wrapped his hands around his cup again. But it had gone thoroughly cool by now, and all the whipped cream had melted into an unattractive sludge. Lestat let out a frustrated sigh. “Being here...this city. It will change things for you. You’ll see.” Half the people in New York were practically begging to be killed, after all. And if not that, simply being around the other two vampires and seeing how they lived the same way as Lestat would reinforce all the lessons Louis refused to heed. One way or another, this would work. It had to. Lestat might end up doing something drastic if it didn’t.

Louis wasn’t certain he agreed. Their personalities were so different, he could never take Lestat’s word as law. But he folded his hands neatly upon the table. “If you could find someone who is begging for death, I will oblige them,” he said, figuring compromise was the best way to reconcile his two selves.

Lestat’s eyes lit up, and he immediately forgot about the mortal girl in the café. He leaned across the table, sliding his hands against the sides Louis’s face as if he could kiss him in excitement, though he came not nearly close enough. Louis found himself once again leaning into his maker’s touch.

“I can do that,” Lestat said. Slipping away, he stood up and tucked in his chair. “I can do that right now! Come. We’ll go to the riverbank.”

“Of course you can,” Louis muttered, not at all surprised. “Fine, lead the way, and then we can go home.” He sounded more tired than anything.

Forgetting the umbrella he’d stashed under the table, Lestat left the café, eager to find someone suicidal for Louis to eat. He couldn’t wait to watch. Louis reluctantly caught up to him.

Even though the rain had stopped, Lestat still shivered in the wind after the warmth of the café. Considering how much blood he’d already consumed tonight, he could only imagine how much colder Louis must feel right now, perfect idiot that he was. Not for the first time since moving here, he found himself missing Louisanna’s climate. The summer couldn’t come soon enough. Fortunately, the walk was a brisk one, and soon they were at the Hudson River Greenway.

Hooking Louis’s elbow, Lestat pulled him close to his side as they walked, whispering to him. “Concentrate, and you’ll hear them. The lost, the disconsolate, how their hearts beat. This time of night, anyone who comes to the river longs for death.” It was basically a law of nature. “You’re a much more attractive alternative than the fetid waters.” Releasing Louis, he gave him a gentle push in the direction of the closest obvious mortal.

The smell of the river hit Louis before anything else. He wrinkled his nose in response, but he concentrated on drawing close to the desperate-looking mortal. The man leaned dangerously over the river’s barrier. In life, Louis would’ve asked what was troubling him. But his hunger made it hard to focus. In the blink of an eye, Louis reached the mortal and sunk his fangs into his jugular. He couldn’t help himself, nor could he stop now. He drank the warm liquid, feeling the despair seep through him as he did.

It was enough to take Lestat’s breath away. He had to put his hand against a tree for support as he watched Louis take the suicidal man. His own heart beat in time to theirs as the blood scent clouded the air, making him light-headed. Forcing himself to stay back was almost impossible, but he managed until Louis had finished. Then Lestat urged him to dispose of the body in the river before snagging Louis’s arm and pulling him back into the shadows of the trees. “There,” he said breathlessly, deliciously distracted by Louis’s warmth even through his layers of clothing. “Much better.” He wanted nothing more right now than to press Louis roughly against the tree and kiss him until they both collapsed.

Louis did feel a thousand times better now that he had his fill of blood. His cheeks flushed with the returned warmth. He faced to Lestat. “Who is Marius?” he asked. He still knew little more than the ancient vampire’s name.

Lestat’s heart plummeted. Of course Louis wasn’t even thinking of him at all in this moment. He released Louis’s arm reluctantly, allowing space between them. A thoughtful silence stretched as Lestat watched how the reflection of the lingering rain clouds rippled on the water. Finally, when he’d wrestled back most of his disappointment, he replied. “He is you or I two millennia from now. He is what our kind can become if we keep our heads and live as rational, practical monsters among men.” He shrugged, downplaying the seriousness of his musings. “He is my friend.”

“He’s _that_ old?” Louis tried to wrap his head around so much time passing. “Did he make you?” He was unable to hold back his questions now that he’d been fed and his curiosity was piqued.

For a moment, Lestat didn’t know whether to be furious or amused by the question, and he just stared at Louis in the wavering shadow of the tree. “No,” he finally answered, unable to keep the strain from his voice. Buttoning up his coat against the cold, he turned to walk back out of the park, expecting Louis to follow, his eyes only on the path ahead. “He made Armand,” he added after a moment as if just remembering that fact.

Louis found it almost difficult to keep pace with his maker. He could see that he’d hit a sore spot, but he didn’t quite understand why. What he did know, though, was that asking would be dangerous. “Oh, that explains....” He cut himself off, deciding against pointing out how much Armand seemed to dislike Lestat being near Marius.

Lestat’s jaw clenched, bracing for whatever Louis might say, and he only grew more tense when he left it unfinished. But he didn’t ask. Louis folded his arms behind his back and said nothing more as they strolled. He knew better than to poke the metaphorical bear. When they reached the street corner that would turn back towards the apartment, Lestat paused and looked up the street in the opposite direction. “What time is it?”

Louis pulled out his pocket watch. “Almost four in the morning.”

Nodding, Lestat remained silent for another moment, staring up the street, his jaw clenched. He needed distraction from the knots Louis tied in his heart. He needed release. And he knew just where he could find it in this marvelous city. In a move as quick as a pickpocket’s, Lestat extracted Louis’s wallet from his clothes and plucked out the cash within.

Louis glared. “ _Vraiment_?” he muttered, his Louisiana Creole accent coming out, laced with annoyance. Part of him wanted to fight back, but he knew that he was dependent on Lestat, as much as he hated to admit it.

Lestat handed the wallet back to Louis, slipping the cash into his own pocket as he turned away from him to head in the opposite direction of home. “Don’t expect me back until dawn.”

“I won’t,” Louis spat after him and turned on his heels. Since Lestat had his cash, he was forced to walk the remaining distance back to the apartment. And so he did.


	4. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand and his maker make arrangements for Marius to move in, but are interrupted by a highly frustrated Louis.

Earlier, when Armand had first left the café, he had stood for long moment on the street, mulling over the fight they’d had inside. Lestat could make him unhealthily angry. To stay silent was to give in, to fight back was to have your words twisted to unrecognizable poison. There was no winning a fight with Lestat de Lioncourt. It was sinking in, the fact that he would have to cohabitate like this indefinitely, that in Lestat’s fifteen year absence, he had completely forgotten how insufferable he was, and how unsuited to each other they were as people. Out of blind, stunted frustration, and with no outlet for his current emotions, blood tears welled in his eyes.

Marius hesitated for a moment before resting a hand on his fledgling’s shoulder in attempt to offer comfort. “You do not have to like everyone,” he said softly, warmly. “But civility is a useful skill to master. I am pleased with you, caro mío.”

Armand breathed deeply and turned to lead Marius downtown to his apartment, attempting and failing to release the tension from his body. “I need you to promise me one thing,” he said quietly, angry at himself. “That you’ll stay, especially now. I need you. I need you around me. I’ll kill him.” It was a cross between a beg and a promise. “You keep me grounded. And you know that. And I despise you for it.”

Marius kept his eyes locked on Armand as they walked. “I cannot promise you that. But I can promise you that I will try to fulfill it,” he offered. “Is it me you despise? Or do you despise yourself for it?”

Armand thought on this for a long moment. He hated that Marius had stayed away for so long and made a companion, however brief, of Lestat. He hated that despite this negligence that he invariably wanted his maker around. But he could never hate Marius. Unwilling to admit this, he turned to other things. “Why can’t you promise to stay? Where must you go? You were flitting about in Venice and you do it now. Why am I not enough?” He regretted the last question almost instantaneously. He did not mean to drive him away further.

Marius tensed. His temper caused him to pull the younger man into his arms. Armand couldn’t hide his surprise at the sudden display of affection, aware that on some level it was reluctant.

“It hasn’t anything to do with you, “ Marius said. “But everything to do with me.” He left it at that. Of course he could say more but chose not to. He simply could not trust himself to make the promise he probably would not be able to keep. “For now and the foreseeable future, I am here. You needn’t worry.”

Armand looked up at his maker hotly, fixating on the fury in his eyes and relishing in every minute of it. It was then that he realized he’d subconsciously wanted to rouse Marius’s anger. He wanted his passion. It was the only thing that could distract him, aside from the hunt. “That is all I needed to know,” he said softly.

“Then let’s not make fools of ourselves,” Marius coaxed, releasing the other from his probably too tight grasp. He adjusted his cloak and continued walking with a purpose.

Armand sighed almost inaudibly, straightening his damp jacket as he strode by Marius’s side. “I’ve installed a library. With Ovid, Cicero, and Pliny the Elder.” He spoke nearly conversationally, his anger almost away from him now. Of course, upon looking at Lestat again, it might come flooding back, and Armand may behave so terribly that Marius would leave and never come back.

“I look forward to enjoying your collection.” The warmth remained in Marius’s voice. “It seems like I have taught you well…no?” He offered his hand subtly.

Armand considered the large, elegant hand for a moment. But if they’d been in each other’s arms just a moment ago, what was the harm in them walking hand in hand? He’d made it abundantly clear his feelings toward his master—though he’d not let those emotions slip to his new house mates—he saw no point in hiding his intentions while alone with Marius. He took the hand, walking to their casual speed as he clasped it. “I suppose I had hoped you would at least continue to visit,” he remarked as they turned onto the street to his apartment.

Relief filled Marius to feel Armand’s hand in his own. “You do know me well,” he said. “Tell me, why did you take Lestat and Louis in?”

“I cannot explain it,” Armand said as he relished the gentleness of Marius’s touch, appreciating that without consideration he could crush his hand’s bones in such a manner. “I thought perhaps that they would find peace at least, if they had somewhere stable to stay.” He pulled the keys from his pocket as they approached the door and unlocked it, somewhat relieved to find the flat upstairs still empty, though it aligned to his expectation. “Besides, I like Louis. I could not bear to see him bear the brunt of Lestat alone.”

“I think I understand,” Marius replied thoughtfully, intending to give Armand’s reply further consideration. He followed his fledgling inside. “Do you like him, or do you want him as a partner?” He kept any jealousy out of his voice. Marius was not the jealous type when he knew there was no competition.

Armand thought on the question as he led Marius through the apartment and to his chambers. There was no denying that Louis had an exquisite beauty to him. A fine charm that Lestat did not deserve, a charm that in itself was intoxicating. If Louis propositioned Armand, he was unsure that he would refuse. However, Armand had someone at his side far more desirable. Beautiful, patient, understanding. A being that knew him as much as anyone could at this moment, though much had changed between them. He offered the simpler response, “I do not seek him out.” He slipped off his still-damp outerwear and set up his laptop. They would have to search for a bed for Marius’s new room, afterall.

Marius’s eyes roamed over the items that resided in Armand’s chamber, trying to glean his activities as he ascertained that Armand was fond of this Louis. Marius smiled in amusement. “I see.”

“As I said earlier, you’ll like him.” Armand shrugged, settling on his bed. Taking off his cloak, Marius gently placed it on the back of a chair. Without being invited, he moved beside Armand.

Armand tried to focus on his computer. He would dwell later on the thrill he felt when Marius came to him unprompted. “Louis may be weak, for a blood drinker. But as a personality, his class and intelligence know no bounds. I have no doubt that the two of you could stay up well past dawn discussing Plato and Aristotle, would your bodies allow it.”

Marius nodded thoughtfully. “I can appreciate an intellectual,” he said as he watched his fledgling work the computer. “You do know me well.”

Armand began to badger the keyboard in his search, gesturing for Marius to watch the screen as he browsed the furniture stores. “I’ll need your opinion, of course.”

“Of course. While I can appreciate your taste in furnishings, this choice shall be my own.”

Armand looked up at him, studying the older vampire. He pondered the implications of Marius receiving his own room. He would have anyone in it, if he wished. Armand’s thoughts shot back to Marius’s conversation with Lestat in the café. They needed to talk of something. What was it? Why did they have private things to talk about? Why was Armand not to know, or was he already aware? There were secrets that Marius had kept deftly locked away since they had met, the burden of them discernible within his clever cobalt eyes. Those so un-Roman eyes. It had been a point of contention between them centuries ago.

Armand only hoped that Lestat hadn’t manage to extract them in a single night.

He liked his maker here, where he could see him, away from bratty, spoiled hands. It was times like this that he was ever grateful for the privacy of his thoughts against Marius. “Have you ever used a laptop before?” he asked as he turned back to his search.

Marius relaxed, the tension melting away now that he had his Amadeo beside him. He kept his gaze fixed on the screen with a mix of curiosity and confusion. Marius did not like technology. He saw it as the pathway to sloth. “No,” he said clearly. “Nor do I have any inclination to.”

If Armand were human, he would have snorted at such quintessential elderly behavior. Instead, he suffered for a light chuckle, eyes full of fondness as he pulled up another tab. “I’ll do all the manual work for you, then.”

Marius raised a brow. “Do you find it amusing?” He smirked. “Because I will not hesitate to remind you that I am your maestro.”

“Perhaps you were once.” Armand fought against the smile that tugged at his lips, eyes never leaving the screen. He was enjoying the provocation a little too much. “Now, you’re just a stuffy old man who’s too afraid to adapt to the times. How about this one?” He stopped scrolling at a king sized, four poster bed frame that seemed as though it would be to Marius’s liking. Though who in these times needed the drama of a four poster bed was beyond him.

“Amadeo,” he warned. “I am not stuffy.” He did not argue about the old piece. He could not deny that. “And I am not afraid. I am sensible.”

Armand smiled slightly wider. If he were a younger vampire unfamiliar with Marius, he would be frightened to the core by the edge to that tone. As it stood, he felt nothing but amusement. “I may seek to open a window in here to alleviate the stuffiness.”

“You will do no such thing,” he retorted playfully as he finally looked at the bed on Armand’s screen. “No, I do not like the wood. It won’t do.”

“There’s nothing at all wrong with it. What wood do you want?”

He studied the laptop. “I would prefer oak.” Marius shifted where he sat and his expression changed at the distant click of the apartment’s front door followed by the hollow footsteps in the hall of another immortal. “Louis is home.” His senses picked up on the young vampire’s tension. “Lestat had scampered off somewhere.”

“Good riddance to him.” Armand couldn’t hide the spite in his voice as he refined the search to oak. “You are surely not surprised that they are not walking home arm in arm and content with one another.”

“It is difficult to surprise me,” he said casually. “Besides, I am well aware of the Lestat’s nature.” A bed on the computer screen caught his eye. “That one there is nice, but the drapery should of course be red.”

“Well naturally, red. There is no other color. And the walls shall be red, and we shall tint the windows red. Red carpet or red rug? Why not both. We shall all gather into your room when we are particularly hit by thirst, that the sight of it may calm us.” Armand had only meant to make one remark, but his maker’s excessive penchant for the color was rather amusing. Of course, he said it all with a devilish smile.

Marius nodded. “I feel the red needs balance. Perhaps gold? And you may only enter my chamber upon invitation. I’m certain you remember the rules.” Although he mentioned them, Marius had no intention of enforcing the rules.

“I don’t see an issue with that, providing you still have your switch.” Armand winked.

Before Marius could reply, a quietly seething Louis appeared in the open doorway to Armand’s bedroom. “I can’t believe the audacity,” he muttered.

Armand’s demeanor cooled as he looked to Louis. “I trust you had a delightful hour in each other’s arms.”

“Delightful is an overstatement.” Louis’s cheeks were flushed with the blood from the man he’d killed. “He is insufferable.”

Armand struggled to feign concern, but as he truly observed Louis’s countenance, he recognized the same turmoil that he himself had experienced at Lestat’s hands not two hours past. He transferred the laptop to Marius so he could give Louis his undivided attention.

Marius took the computer reluctantly. He didn’t know what to do with it other than not want it to break. He stared confusedly at it. Armand tried to hide his amusement, placing one of his hands gently on the keyboard. “It’s simple, press the letters in the order you want to spell something. Or, if you like that one just move the mouse to add it to basket.”

Armand turned back to Louis. “Tell me what happened with Lestat.”

“Well…” Louis began, “he took me to the river, and I took a life. Things were fine. I asked him a simple question, and the next thing I knew, he took my cash and left.”

“What was the question?” Armand would not probe his mind for it.

With frustration, Marius attempted to figure out the nuances of the machine. All he wanted was a bed. “Where’s the basket I place this in?” he asked.

Were it not so endearing, seeing the Mighty Marius brought low by an online store, Armand would have rolled his eyes. “There is literally a button that says ‘add to basket’, Tesoro. You’ll need to get used to it,” he said affectionately. “You’ll need a mattress, bedding, and covers next.” Armand looked back to Louis expectantly.

Louis had bit his tongue to keep from chuckling at the exchange, but his nature became gloomy once more as he recounted the events. “I only asked if Marius was Lestat’s maker.”

Armand all but winced. “Lestat’s maker left a lot to be desired,” he explained. “And from what I’ve seen so far, he thinks very highly of Marius. It may be a point of sensitivity for him.” He could try for once to view things empathetically rather than tearing Lestat apart. Though, Armand could not deny feeling smug that he had a bond with Marius that Lestat coveted.

“Oh…I did not know that,” Louis said, suddenly feeling quite awkward. “I only asked for Lestat seemed affectionate towards him.” He glanced at Marius, wondering at other reasons for such affection from Lestat.

Sensing eyes on him, Marius gave up on the computer, setting it aside. He refused to allow his embarrassment to show. He would _not_ need to get used to it. “I will not be using this contraption. It isn’t necessary,” he said firmly. Although his real fear was the death of books. He thought it best not to add to the conversation with Louis, proud of his Amadeo’s emotional maturity in this moment.

Armand eyed the computer. “I would appreciate watching your pride spite your comfort,” he retorted. “If you stop now, you’ll have naught but a bed frame by tomorrow night.” Of course he knew that Marius could sleep most anywhere in relative comfort, such was the nature of vampires. But he was a creature of luxury. Although he had more to say to Louis, Armand kept his eyes fixed on his maker for the moment and thought on this, a small smile dancing across his lips.

Marius could tell his fledgling was enjoying his frustration far too much. What he couldn’t glean was if this was his intention. Ever so slowly, he started trying to type again to find a mattress. His brow furrowed as he didn’t know how to click the enter button.

Gingerly, Armand plucked the laptop from Marius and slid it over his legs, making quick work of what the elder was agonizing over. He tapped Marius’s arm as he browsed sets of bedclothes. “Stop me when you see one.”

Marius hid his relief. “I think that red and gold one suits me, don’t you agree?” He only asked Armand’s opinion out of formality.

Armand surveyed the image critically, examining Marius’s face to ensure his seriousness. It was definitely his color scheme, but horrendously ugly with its excessive amount of cushions that no immortal could ever make adequate use of in all their years. But as he detected no hint of jest, he quirked a brow and added it to the basket.

Marius remained completely serious. He did not play around when it came to choosing luxuries. “Thank you, caro mio,” he replied sincerely.

Confirming the whole purchase with his credit card, Armand’s heart warmed slightly at the term of endearment and the tone used to convey it. To hell with the ugly bedding, if he would be spoken to like that upon it, he would change every bed in the apartment to match.

Pleased with the choices, Marius stood and glanced to Louis hovering in the doorway. “I will leave the two of you to talk,” he said gently. “When you need me, I will be in the living room.” This was a conversation and situation Armand needed to handle on his own.

Louis felt he should have gone minutes ago, but he’d been unable to take his eyes from the way the two of them shared affection. He let Marius pass, then looked back to Armand searchingly.

Armand shut the laptop down. “Apologies for the distraction,” he said to Louis. “Apparently you cannot teach an old dog new tricks.” His eyes sparkled with mirth, but then rising from the bed, Armand went to usher Louis into the room and shut the door. “Nothing I said excuses Lestat’s brattiness, disregard, and theft of your money. But let’s talk of you.” He returned to his place on the bed. “Sit down. You killed for the first time in years tonight. Your head must be reeling.”

Louis still felt rather intimidated, but at the same time he did not want to be rude, so he sat on a chair beside the bed, folding his hands in his lap. Louis had been so distracted by Lestat, he’d barely noticed his own thoughts spinning in wake of the murder. “Now that you mention it,” he muttered, trying to understand everything and frustrated that Lestat had just left him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You are not dead and they are,” Armand said reassuringly. “Providing that you’ve well concealed the body, there are no other rules.” He offered Louis a small, proud smile. “You will become accustomed to it, though I know you find it reprehensible. You must try the little drink at least once, it is far less debilitating on the conscience for someone as morally driven as yourself.”

“What is the little drink?” he asked, although in hindsight he figured it might be a question better suited for Lestat so as not to further damage his maker’s ego.

“It is the method of drinking little and often, in a sense. To take from a handful of people a night and subsequently erase their memory. It is a game of seduction, one that Marius has mastered. I much prefer to go in for the kill, so to speak.”

The concept seemed potentially appealing, but Louis was pretty sure he didn’t have the skill to get away with that. “How do you live with the fact that you murder?” he asked.

Armand smirked perhaps too eagerly at Louis’s interest, fully aware that the other vampires would not appreciate the detailed response. “As Lestat does, I thoroughly enjoy it. Life was not kind to me aside from my time in Venice, and even then, the world sought to shoot me down. I have little respect for humanity in a lot of ways. And I worship it in others.”

Louis took a moment to absorb his words. “I suppose I can understand.” He let out a soft sigh and brushed a loose strand of black hair behind his ear. After so long resisting, he’d killed again. There was no turning back. And now he was learning that he might one day enjoy it. It was plenty to think about.

“You are no longer human. You do not owe humanity your allegiance. If you truly feel a monster, then only hunt the evil doer. Pedophiles, rapists, that killing them would prevent an innocent’s suffering.”

As much as he hated the idea, Louis thought Armand might be right. He considered the suggestion.

Armand toyed with the idea of placing a hand upon Louis’s shoulder, believing that a kind touch may alleviate some of his turmoil. But he was wary of overstepping a boundary, and Louis seemed someone unused to displays of affection, even if he considered it his own fault more than anyone else’s. Armand settled for looking into his eyes, hoping to convey his concern and encouragement in that manner. “It may not be easy, but it will get easier. And take solace in the fact that you are in the presence of one of the gentlest, most skilled hunters of our kind. Though he may frighten you too much to speak to him yet.”

Louis nodded. The fondness with which Armand spoke of Marius made him wonder again about the ancient vampire’s connection to Lestat. Louis had a million questions, but he asked none. His inquiries had already gotten him in enough of a pickle. Instead, he rose and moved to the bed. “Thank you Armand,” he said with sincerity before reaching down and cupping the other’s cheek.

Armand almost drew back from surprise, blinking slowly at the sensation of the warm touch. He placed his hand upon Louis’s, a quiet assurance that he was always welcome in this way, that if Lestat should protest, then he could be dealt with. “Worry not, Louis. We are all here for you now. Do with that opportunity what you will. And for the record, Marius loves questions. He revels in them. To teach is his greatest passion. There is nothing you can ask that may upset him.”

This notion gave Louis comfort, though he could not exactly pinpoint why. “Perhaps I will approach him tomorrow night. If Lestat won’t find offense.” He let his touch linger for another moment on Armand’s face before pulling back. “I should rest,” he said, quietly excusing himself.

Armand hid his disdain at the notion of consulting Lestat first and nodded. “Do as you will. Though if you find in isolation your thoughts are twisting in your mind, then you know where to find me. Even as a shallow distraction.”

Louis nodded in silent thanks before departing to make his way to his own room.

Alone, Armand took his remote and turned on the television in search of one of those curious infomercials that so captivated him. Hogwash or Flextape... He settled in contentedly when he found one for Scrub Daddy.

A minute later, Marius returned to hover in the doorway. “I’m proud of you Amadeo,” he praised. “Would you mind if I joined you?” It was not really a question, but a statement of intention.

“Louis need not suffer for my hatred of his maker.” Armand peeled the bed’s quilt back in silent invitation. “He gets enough torment from Lestat as it stands, we should help him where we can.”

Marius nodded, though his eyes were thoughtful. “I agree, but you cannot teach someone who does not wish to learn. We will wait. Louis will come in time.” Marius settled onto the bed beside his fledgling, draping an arm around him and coaxing him close, though Armand needed none.

He slot into his arms through his maker’s, as though they were two pieces of a puzzle, the way they always had, as if they were designed for each other centuries apart. How he appreciated the feeling of being wanted by Marius. “He has questions. Do not be surprised if he approaches you soon.”

“I will expect it. I can hear his thoughts despite my aversion to prying.” He gently rubbed his Amadeo’s back as he held him close. “And how are you coping?”

Armand sighed into the touch, almost melting against Marius as he thought on the question for a moment. “I am glad to have movement in my house. But in a way, I wish it were just you. This is the first week of potentially many, and we were already at each other’s throats. I fear there’s nothing right you can say to Lestat.”

Marius listened intently. Not only with his head but with his heart as well. “I believe there is a learning experience for all in this.” He paused, considering what to say next. “Lestat is stubborn and difficult, but he has potential.”

Armand wasn’t sure he could justify that with a response at this moment. He rested his head on his maker’s chest, enraptured by the sound of his powerful heartbeat over the lulling sounds of the infomercial on the television. He twirled his finger through a wave of platinum hair as he pondered. “He is stronger than me.” He murmured, though there wasn’t a hint of jealousy present. “Somewhere there is goodness in him. But who are we as slaughterers of human kind to expect goodness? I should embrace him for his behaviors.”

Marius was able to relax easily in this position. Armand meant the world to him. “Does that bother you?” he inquired, although he already knew the answer. “Lestat is not a monster, Amadeo. He is a brat, but his heart is in the right place. He loves intensely. He does everything with intensity.”

“I suppose that is something I can understand,” he mumbled against his maker’s chest, attempting to stay coherent and intellectual as he felt the weight of the dawn in his limbs. He had always succumbed to it before Marius. “Perhaps…we are similar enough in that regard to come into conflict.”

“Yes. That is it indeed,” Marius said with a knowing smile, savoring the sleepiness in the other’s voice. “Rest, caro mío,” he soothed. “We will resume the conversation next evening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they all sleep in beds in this AU, not coffins. No coffins. Don’t ask me why. Also, spoilers, in this AU the vampires like to have sex with each other. Call the canon police.


	5. Kindnesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestat and Armand make up…until everything goes wrong. Again.

The next evening, when Armand received a notification of the imminent delivery of one the packages he’d ordered, he had intended to make his way downstairs to await it. However, as he passed the closed door to Lestat’s bedroom, something made him hesitate. He lingered just beyond it, listening to Lestat’s quiet movements within as he readied for a night out.

Sensing the other vampire outside his door, Lestat went to open it. A faint smirk touched his lips as if Armand’s presence confirmed something he’d suspected. He shot a quick glance to the hall beyond him to see if anyone else observed them, and then he put a hand on Armand’s shoulder, drawing him inside and closing the door.

Armand quirked a brow, startled by the eager welcome. But as Lestat’s fingers pressed his shoulder and his other hand remained on the closed door’s knob, effectively trapping Armand against it, he suspected some ulterior motive.

Lestat glanced back over his shoulder at the room’s decor. “What do you think? I’ve made it my own.”

Putting aside the way Lestat towered over him in his infuriating manner, Armand cast his gaze over the impressive work already made of the chamber. He was half surprised it wasn’t some cheap attempt at imitating Marius’s style, but rather completely bespoke to Lestat himself. “It isn’t horrid,” he said in a low voice, as if wishing to conceal his presence there. “Not as horrid as Marius’s bedding in transit anyway. You did this quickly.”

“How you flatter me.” Lestat’s tone was dry, and he released Armand. Turning, he crossed to the dresser to retrieve something and slide it into the pocket of his trousers while keeping it concealed from Armand. “Why did you urge Louis to come with us last night?” he asked casually. “Clearly, you could tell he didn’t want to.”

Armand saw that he had two options this night. To confront the Lestat on everything that was said and felt the night before and waste time and energy on a conflict that he would neither win nor gain anything from, or to remain as civil as he possibly could. To retain a level head and speak plainly, whilst inwardly appreciating the sight of the younger vampire bending down to retrieve something. Truly, he did not hate Lestat. But he could be an absolute thorn in his side. He took the latter option. “I had hoped it may satisfy the both of you. Besides, he hunted, did he not? That was what you wanted. And we would not have run into Marius. I know his presence delights you.”

Lifting his gaze to Armand’s reflection in the dresser mirror, Lestat arched a dubious eyebrow. “Satisfy the both of us?” he mused as if he’d never suspected such a notion would cross Armand’s mind. He laughed softly at the insinuation that Armand could take any credit for Louis’s hunting. Armand had only made things so much worse for Lestat and Louis’s tenuous understanding in the café last night. Turning around slowly, he let his eyes drift over Armand, taking in his appearance and attire appreciatively. “How generous of you. That’s what you meant, then, was it? To do me so many favors and kindnesses?”

Armand opened his mouth to retort, then presumed he was being a little rash and closed it. He sighed softly, brows knitting as he concentrated on the right answer. “You wanted to go somewhere. You wanted him to go somewhere, and you did also ask me, regardless of it being a last resort or not.” He folded his arms in thought, trying not to let on how he caught the glint in Lestat’s gaze as those iridescent eyes, made violet by the room’s warm light, raked over him. Armand knew that glint. If he were a lesser man, he may have felt heat rise to his cheeks. But he knew this must be some deliberate and twisted game. “I offered you lodgings here,” he said. “If it was my intent to disrespect you, I would do so. As it stands, I make a habit of treating those under my roof with a modicum of generosity.”

Now that really was worth a laugh. Lestat pressed a hand to his side, his eyes shining with mirth at the irony. “So you meant to do what _I_ wanted?” He shook his head and sighed. “Next time, keep out of it. Louis is…” He paused to think. “Delicate. You don’t know how to handle him. Not yet.” He frowned at the memory of how little heed Louis paid to him last night after he’d killed, but he tried to hide his disappointment from Armand. “And anyway,” he added, lightly. “Might it not as well be my roof? You used the money I left you in Paris to pay for this place.”

Armand had tried twice to deal objectively with the situation and answer in a way that would please Lestat, and twice had the other vampire twisted it against him. Armand studied him now, truly looked. There was nothing he could say to please Lestat. He dropped his arms to his side and sighed. “I’ll stay out of it.” His voice was hollow. “It may as well be your house.” He thought then to leave. Perhaps in a few months, a pleasantry might be exchanged between the two of them. It would be best to avoid Lestat for now.

But not if Lestat had anything to do with it. He stepped forward and took Armand by the shoulders. “I appreciate it,” he said dryly, as if not believing Armand would hold to that promise for a moment. Turning, he pressed Armand to sit on the side of the bed. “Do you know why I brought him here?” His hands slid from Armand, but he made no move to sit himself. “I mean really know?”

Armand almost did not want to know, hadn’t the wherewithal to listen. To interact with Lestat was oftentimes to leave him as exhausted as an immortal could feel. Further still, when one moment you were the dirt on his boot and the next he was guiding you to his bedspread. Still, he obliged, and looked up at him, dark eyes surprisingly wide for someone so apathetic. “You’ll tell me, I assume?”

Lestat’s brow pinched as if Armand’s reply troubled him, but he shook his head and the expression evaporated. “I was hoping you’d tell me,” he said with a breathless laugh, though how serious he was was impossible to tell. He fell into the chair beside the bed, watching Armand closely.

It had all seemed like a stroke of brilliance at the time: to expose Louis to the other vampires. To show him how their existence _could_ be, since he refused to take Lestat’s word for it or follow any of the examples he set.

But there was more beneath that, Lestat knew. It wasn’t just any other vampire he had found to take them in. He had gone back to _Armand_. Best not to dwell on that now.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted. “Perhaps I wasn’t thinking at all. Louis… Well, he burned down our house. We lost everything. I knew I had to get him away from there. A complete change of scenery.” His eyes narrowed as they swept Armand’s face as if searching through his expression to something else behind it. “But I suppose the real reason is because…you were right.”

It would be a lie to say that Armand wasn’t at least a little taken aback. He had expected a lengthy rant about how Lestat brought Louis into the space to prove a point. Not an aimless, almost desperate response. He frowned, eyes clouded with confusion and focus. What was Armand _right_ about? But then he realized what Lestat meant. “Louis does not hate you,” he said a little too quickly.

Lestat flinched, as if he’d been struck in the face with a lie.

“He may think that he does sometimes,” Armand continued. “When I said that so long ago, that the ones you make will always hate you, I thought that I despised Marius. Really, a fledgling resents more than anything how much they _love_ their makers, how much they depend on their attention, their touch. To fight it with hatred is a bitter rebellion, nothing more.” Immediately Armand wondered if he should not have been so open on such a matter. This was information Lestat could use against him and his poor Louis.

Lestat put his thumb to his furrowed brow in an oddly human gesture. Either Armand was spinning lies to some nefarious end, or this was mere pity. Lestat couldn’t decide which was worse. His jaw clenched and his gaze fell to the carpet. He couldn’t imagine ever having desired his own hideous maker’s touch, despite the brief flare of love he did feel for him before he betrayed Lestat so thoroughly. So he knew what Armand said couldn’t be true for everyone, even if Armand truly believed it.

“He wants to hate me,” Lestat finally said, as if that were neither here nor there. “If he doesn’t, he hates the fact that he doesn’t. Which is probably worse, honestly.” With a sigh, he pushed out of the chair to sit on the bed against the pillows facing Armand. “But you see what I mean? A change of scenery was necessary. For his sake. And mine. Like throwing a bucket of cold water on the whole flaming mess. And you’re part of that.” He pressed a finger against Armand’s chest, much in the same way he had last night at the mantelpiece, though the look in his eyes this time was entirely different. “Will you disappoint me?”

These were the times when Armand could sit and talk with Lestat for hours—when a mutual respect rose between them, and the condescension was traded in favor of genuine conversation. It was a shame for its rarity. “I will do what it is in my nature to do and hope that this suffices.”

“I was afraid you’d say something like that,” Lestat said wryly, leaning in close enough to Armand that their noses almost touched.

Armand tried not to react, gently removed the finger from his chest, neither linking Lestat’s hand with his own nor releasing it. “But whether it was the change of scenery, or your own doing entirely, Louis has killed now. And he seems to be warming to the idea. I think that is a sign of how well your escapade is going.”

Lestat sighed and flopped back against the many pillows at the headboard. “I suppose so.” His eyes clouded over with the memory of Louis’s kill. “And you should have seen him! He was…magnificent.” And for a moment there, immediately afterward, Lestat had almost thought… but no. He had been wrong. Louis had been entirely absorbed in himself. As usual. And so Lestat had shut down and gone off to drown his frustration elsewhere.

For a brief moment, there had been nothing Armand wanted more in the world than to close the minuscule distance to Lestat’s lips with his own. Especially when that moment was so abruptly torn from him. That was the true poison of Lestat de Lioncourt; he was virtually impossible for anyone to resist. Armand steeled himself and frowned, leaning slightly back to counteract his instincts. “He will improve with time,” he mused, straightening his clothes.

Blinking, Lestat focused on him again, a faint smile touching his lips. “I haven’t decided how much to tell him about you yet.”

An uneasiness crept upon Armand as the words sank in. There were many things about himself and his past that he would prefer to keep close to his chest. He closed his thoughts to Lestat almost immediately, wondering why he had not done this sooner. “I assure you, Louis has no interest in knowing anything about me.”

Lestat frowned as if stung, his eyes growing a touch more distant. “Oh, you’re undoubtedly right… He is thoroughly self absorbed. He’ll never ask.” But Lestat might tell him anyway if he thought it necessary. For Louis’s safety if nothing else. He mentally felt at the walls Armand had thrown up so abruptly in his head, impressed as always be the psychic abilities of the other vampire which more than made up for how his physical strength paled beside Lestat’s. “Don’t do that,” he murmured coaxingly. “What do you even have left to hide from me?”

Lestat could get almost whatever he wanted with that tone. Armand could not fathom him as a mortal man, he must have been born of the devil to have such charm. “You’ve no right to unadulterated roam of my thoughts, Lestat.” He locked eyes with him. The statement would have had more venom, were he not so damnedly fixated by Lestat at this moment. He kept the mental defense up. “You should not know everything about me.” He resented that the more he considered it, the less he could imagine was left a mystery to Lestat.

“Why not?” he asked casually, tilting his head against the headboard. “You know everything about me. Isn’t that what you wanted? To be equals?” An amused smile touched his lips, and he straightened.

“But we are not equal, you and I,” Armand said quietly. “You relish in the opportunity to remind me of that, if not verbally then in other ways.” Reading Lestat’s body language as intention to rise, Armand stood. “And so I would retain my privacy.”

Lestat’s face lifted, looking up at Armand, but he made no move to get off the bed. “Would you now?” he mused. That was a grand trick Armand did with his mind. Walling his thoughts off so completely, like stone doors slamming shut. Lestat wondered if he could perform the same feat and so gave it a try. Instantly, the wall slammed closed in his brain. Well, that was simpler than he expected. He smiled at Armand, knowing he would have sensed it. The expression was meant to be something triumphant, but sorrowful disappointment tinged it.

So Lestat meant to hold this over him as well? Armand would not stand for it. He stepped to Lestat and locked eyes with him determinedly, so deeply it would seem he looked through them. The sounds of the world fall away, and Armand visualized the figurative door Lestat had erected. With a surprising amount of effort, Armand was able to open it.

He was even further surprised by what he read from thoughts within. How Lestat had been hoping that this would go differently, that Armand would have still wanted to be close with him. And beneath that, Lestat’s conflicted regrets about the way he had left Armand fifteen years ago. Wrapped around it all was Lestat’s consideration that the way things turned out now between them was probably for the best. Because wanting all that with Armand was a dangerous thing to hope for.

“Things can still be that way,” Armand breathed. “Or at least some semblance of it. All you’ve ever had to do is ask. But your pride will not allow that.”

Lestat’s hands shot up, clamping to the sides of his head as the mental assault gripped him like a vice. He fell back against the pillows again, too shocked by the sheer wretched _violation_ of the act to do anything else.

“I will not do this again,” Armand said. “But know that I can. You will not hold my past over me.”

Lestat’s eyes snapped open, blazing with fury. Armand’s words garbled in his ears, such was his reeling. Slowly, his hands slipped from his head and balled into white fists. “Get out,” he hissed.

Armand allowed his own mental defenses to crumble away; Lestat was in no state to read his thoughts now. He collected himself and left the room wordlessly.

Had it been the right action to take? Now he had seen that Lestat had almost wanted to have something with him, and in finding the information, he had ruined the prospect of it. Since Marius, Lestat had been the only soul to arouse some sense of attraction within him. Perhaps it was the power he radiated. But it was done now, and a great bridge had been burned in the process. To apologize would be futile. There was nothing left for Armand but regret.

Left alone in his room, it took Lestat some long minutes to recover. But once he had, he snatched up his coat and left the apartment for the rest of the night.


	6. A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis invites Armand into his room for an intimate moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter’s kind of weird, but bear with me. It’s going somewhere. For now, just enjoy the brief semi-cracky interlude.

Armand was taken aback as he heard Louis’s voice from down the corridor. In his closed room, Louis was reading a book aloud. _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , Armand suspected, though he had never read it himself. Louis’s cadence was so unrestrained compared to his usual countenance, relaxed, as though for once he were genuinely enjoying himself and not holding to the old southern charm by the skin of his teeth as he was wont to do.

He made his way across the hallway, taking care with his footsteps that he might move even more silently than usual and stopped by Louis’s doorway. He was doing nothing to hide his creole accent, nor did he make an effort to speak properly. Rather, he let the words flow through him like an art form. The very sound brought a smile to Armand’s face. He could not bring himself to move away even once he heard Louis fall silent, set the book aside, and come to the door.

“Armand,” he greeted upon opening it, so surprised to see him there that he neglected to restrain his accent. “Is everythin’ alright?”

He looked to Louis with a mixture of surprise and appreciation. Had he always sounded like this? Come to think of it, he hadn’t spent nearly as much time with Louis as he perhaps should as his host. Behind Louis, he noted the recording equipment beside the book. “Is this a hobby of yours then?” Armand asked with a gentle interest, unwilling to discourage Louis from continuing.

Louis’s cheeks were as flushed as his vampiric nature would let them be. “Yeah, I suppose,” he said cautiously, as if wary of Armand’s judgment.

“I hadn’t meant to interrupt.”

“It’s no bother. I was done for the night anyhow. I only record a chapter at a time. For no-one wants to sit for longer than that.”

Armand wondered who this ‘no-one’ was and how they could experience anything but joy if Louis decided to read the entirety of the Old Testament in one sitting. “You do this for people?” he asked softly, casting his eyes over Louis’s face.

“I do…anonymously, of course,” he explained. “I post them on YouTube under a pseudonym.” The accent disappeared as Louis schooled his demeanor. “It is a way to engage with people about literature without getting too personal.”

Armand frowned almost worriedly, allowing the disappointment to be seen in his expression as Louis reigned himself in, withdrawing from him. “You don’t have to put up a guard around me, Louis. It’s a nice thing that you do, and a nice voice that you do it with.” He smiled to encourage him further. “You’re under my roof; don’t feel as though you need to be a stranger.”

Louis folded his hands behind his back self-consciously. The shame he felt of his own nature radiating off him. “A creole accent is perceived by the masses to indicate a lack of intelligence,” he said. “I appreciate your hospitality, and I mean no offense.”

Armand quirked a brow at this. “What are we to the people who care for us when we are not ourselves? I’m sure that many of your listeners have a thing or two to say about your voice.”

Louis hesitated for a silent moment. “They usually just ask if that’s how I really talk… A few call me a hick…” He trailed off. “I don’t often respond to non-productive comments. I’ve considered disabling comments once or twice.”

Armand folded his arms reproachfully. “You’re withholding the whole truth. You mean to tell me there’s not at least a single comment under each video complimenting your reading voice?”

Louis bowed his head. “I…” he started, obviously uncomfortable. “I have seen it being compared to ASMR.”

If Armand laughed now, he would risk mortally offending Louis and undo the fragile work he’d made of trust. He took a moment to compose himself, though a glimmer of mirth danced in his eyes that he could not disguise. “That is…not a bad thing, for many.”

Louis’s hands fidgeted behind his back. “Would you like to come in?” A polite change of subject. “There ain’t any sense in lingering in the threshold.”

Armand smiled widely, reveling in his small victory of Louis’s returned accent and followed Louis’s gesture inside. “Forgive the mess,” Louis said. “I was rearranging for better acoustics.”

The room was spotless, Armand noted. Only a bookcase had been moved slightly. He did not allow his eyes to linger on any one thing for too long. It seemed impolite, and he knew that Louis valued manners above all else. Instead, he let himself wander to the window and examine the view from this side of the building. He thought to ask more about the book reading, but did not wish to make Louis uncomfortable. “I am flattered that you asked me in here. I know you covet your privacy.”

Louis settled on his bed. “Do sit down,” he invited, gesturing to the space next to him. “I’m sure it’ll be more comfortable than standing. And it is your home. I’m merely a guest in it. It is only right I allow this.” Louis folded his hands in his lap, his posture straightening. “Besides, I don’ mind the company.”

“Lestat would argue that this is his home,” Armand posited. He could well have gone into how Lestat held this very fact over his head, though he didn’t find it appropriate to burden Louis with theatrics. Instead, he took the space on the bed Louis offered, though retained a slightly further distance. “Your chambers are your sanctuary. I’ve no right to them. But you are more than welcome to my company when you wish it. Unless, of course, I am predisposed with my maker at the time. He has a habit of flitting off to do very important things that he hasn’t the mind to divulge to me. When he is here, I like to see him.” Armand was unsure why he had said so much. He read the expression on Louis’s face, and he seemed a little bit out of sorts.

“Lestat has a habit of acting in such a way.” There was no bitterness in Louis’s tone, but Armand could not help overhearing his thoughts beneath about how Lestat had swooped in and the next thing Louis knew, he was a sugar daddy of sorts. Apparently, he had not yet seen Lestat tonight. His loneliness was palpable.

Louis’s expression softened. “I would very much enjoy your company in this moment,” he said. “If it is convenient for you, of course.” His light accent remained. One of his hands slid into to the empty space on the bed between them.

Armand smiled gently, shifting to face him. He had long been adept at reading body language and emotional intent, as well as how to play those things to his own advantage. The subconscious movement of Louis’s hand towards him had not escaped his notice. How far might Louis go of his own accord? Armand leaned almost imperceptibly towards him and placed his own hand upon the bed. “If it were inconvenient for me, Louis,” he assured kindly, lowering his voice, “I would not be here with you.”

“Are you sure?” Louis asked, seeming to be more relaxed now. “Because you also have manners. You wouldn’t deny an invitation. I know you’d entertain the idea for a short while. No?” A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth followed by a pause. “Forgive me, I may have spoken out of line.”

It had taken such little effort, that was what took Armand by surprise the most. He thought for a moment before leaning a little further forward. He wondered whether this was a matter of genuine desire on Louis’s part or if he were staging some sort of rebellion against Lestat. “There are no lines amongst our kind, Louis…” He savored the name on his tongue, making no secret of it.

“I don’ believe that,” Louis said honestly. “There’s gotta be somethin’ that is too far. I mean…” He looked thoughtful now, once again wrestling with his usual internal demons.

Armand’s gaze fixed upon Louis in the way that he used to drive men mad in his mortal life. “Though I hope you realize I did not come to you with any ulterior intentions.” He genuinely hadn’t.

Meeting his eyes, Louis seemed to forget his troubled thoughts at once. “I trust you haven’t.”

“Advising someone else’s fledgling on how to hunt…violating another’s mind, perhaps…” Armand trailed off. If anyone need be forgiven in this room, it would be himself for his own monstrous behavior towards others. “But you’ve not crossed a line, Louis. There’s nothing you need worry yourself with.”

Louis exhaled silently, moving his hand to brush against Armand as he too leaned in, seemingly unable to stop himself. “So we are not completely monstrous…” he murmured. “Or do monsters have ethics?”

Armand lifted a finger to gently caress the back of Louis’s hand, not enough to feel solid but just enough to arouse the senses. He did this without looking away from Louis’s eyes. “I cannot pretend to know. But I do not think that you are entirely monstrous. Do you think that of me?” He tilted his head slightly, making his face the picture of innocence and genuine curiosity.

A visible shiver ran though Louis in response to the touch. His eyes pored over Armand’s features. “No…'course not.” He leaned in a bit closer.

Armand chuckled ever so softly. It had been too long since he’d played this game, had someone so easily and utterly at his knees. He was enjoying it too much. “Then you should know that, as someone not entirely monstrous, I would never want to put someone I cared about in a compromising position…” He sighed softly, hating to put a stop to this. He gave Louis’s hand a gentle squeeze and pulled away. For once, he would not be the monster. “Regardless of the temptation.”

Louis’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he sat back, moving his hands to his lap. “Dare I ask?”

Armand frowned, his face a positive picture of torment as Louis’s thoughts hovered between them. He believed he’d committed some faux pas to make Armand withdraw. Armand had not intended for the other vampire to blame himself for this moment. He took Louis’s hand from his lap, this time holding it in both of his own. For a moment, he contemplated the size difference. He was reminded once more of how he was stuck forever in this body—not quite yet a man, a beauty to be marveled at, but never to be taken seriously. He shook head and smiled; this was not about him.

“Louis…” he began softly, not looking up from their hands. “You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. I would hate to disrespect you in any manner. There’s the truth of it.”

Louis ran his thumb over the back of Armand’s hand, reflecting in silence. “There is no disrespect,” he said quietly.

“Ah, but it is,” Armand said gently. “To you and to him.” He was almost taken aback by Louis’s willing contact. He found that he enjoyed it, both the sight and the sensation.

“Him…you mean Lestat?” he asked tentatively. “He does not own me. I hope you realize that”.

Armand was never one to shy away from physical touch. “What would you want with me, given the chance?”

There was a pregnant pause as Louis considered his answer. “I will be honest in saying that I don’t know. However, I will say that there ain’t nothing I won’t try.”

Armand linked his hand with Louis’s, not wanting this…whatever it was…to end. “You are always welcome in my chambers, Louis. When you figure out what you want to do with me.” His eyes raked over the other’s face again as he stood. He could truly see how he had so enraptured Lestat.

Louis nodded in understanding. “Thank you kindly, Armand,” he said finally. “Farewell.”

Armand awoke abruptly in his bed.

A dream.

The entire conversation with Louis had been a dream.

Louis didn’t record audiobooks in a creole accent for YouTube. He would never.

And yet…the rest of it…so real. Made up of so many of the very thoughts Armand had not been able to help overhearing from Louis’s mind since he moved in, despite his vow not to intrude on his guest’s mental privacy. Each of the subtle feelings Louis broadcasted so innocently.

Already, the dream’s details were slipping from Armand’s consciousness. Something about monsters, something about voices… The faint echo of Louis’s unabashed accent…

What would Lestat think to know Armand dreamed of Louis this way? His sleepy mind wondered it over. And then Armand was suddenly alert.

_Lestat._

The night before in Lestat’s room came crashing back to him.

Armand’s hands shook as they clutched his head.

_What have I done?_


	7. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand’s guilt drives him to unhealthy extremes, so Marius intervenes.

It had evolved from regret to an insane, body wracking, mind eating guilt after Armand violated Lestat’s mind. He had not been able to bring himself to leave his own chambers for three nights. It was as if Lestat had placed some sort of curse upon him as punishment, to consume his mind with thoughts only of self-loathing. In reality, Armand knew himself well enough to understand that this was his own doing. The fact that he hadn’t fed for days only contributed to the anxiety, the madness, and weakness of the brain. Each intention to at least move around the room fell flat, so that he had been sitting in the same place since the night before, curtains drawn and lights off, hand poised under his chin in thought. He felt sick. Sick of mind and of body. It only fueled his inclination to believe in the devil.

Though Marius could not hear his fledgling’s thoughts, he really didn’t need to in order to understand that something wasn’t right. He’d expected Armand to have sought him out by now. The elder vampire was worried enough that he decided it was best to be the seeker for once. He started with the most logical place, his bedroom, and knocked. “Amadeo?” he called.

Had it been anyone else, Armand would not have registered it. He barely did now, only a faint echo in the very recesses of his mind. “Leave,” he demanded not unkindly, not wishing his maker to be drawn into this.

“Amadeo,” he said sternly. “Let me see you. Then I will decide if it is time to leave. I’ve given you your space for three nights.”

Armand sighed softly with frustration, unwilling to move an inch. “Then give it for another night. Leave it, Marius.” His own voice was raised, a warning. It was the boldest he’d been with his maker since he’d come into immortality; he very rarely even used his name. He could not find it in him to be afraid. Much had changed within him since Venice, and he was not one for submission if he did not wish it upon himself.

Marius did not expect this. He could feel his temper rising, but he held back to the best of his ability. Which unfortunately was not much. “Amadeo. You will be playing this _one more night_ card for a millennium. If you last that long. I can hear your heartbeat. I know you’ve been neglectful. I did not give you the dark gift for you to be foolish,” he spat, his tone venomous.

“You gave me the dark gift of necessity. For your own selfish means. You could have let me die,” he shot back bitterly. Truly, Marius had done it out of love. But it was in these moments that Armand felt it would have been better for him to perish back then. The golden rule of vampirism, to never make a monster of a child. A seventeen year old should never live for eternity.

“If you wish for death, I can bring it upon you hastily,” Marius reminded him. “Pull yourself together. I will give you an hour.”

“You will give me as much time as I require. LEAVE.”

“If you truly wish me to be gone,” he said darkly, “then have it your way.”

Armand considered the implications of his tone. Marius did not mean he would leave him and be there with open arms if he ever pulled himself out of this. He meant that he would be gone permanently, and the rift between them would be wider than the one he’d made between himself and Lestat. With this in mind, he bit his tongue. He had no intention of pulling himself together within the allotted hour, but he did not seek to drive his maker further away.

The lack of response made Marius sigh. His blood was boiling, but he managed not to barge into the room. Instead, he made his way to his own quarters and started to sketch furiously in a feeble attempt to calm down.

Armand kept that hold on his tongue, biting it hard enough to make it bleed in his anger. He did not want to see anyone, not even Marius. But to lose him as well would mean ultimate isolation. He could not come to wander around a shell of himself. Not again. An hour passed. From Marius’s room, he could hear the furious scrape of the pencil. He only hoped that Marius would hear the click of his door unlocking when Armand finally rose for the first time in over twenty-four hours to do it. Because it was the furthest he would relent.

Marius was halfway through his cityscape of Florence when the sound of the lock drew his attention. Now it could belong to anyone, yet he hoped it was Armand coming to his senses. He listened more intently, yet did not stop drawing so as to give the illusion he was distracted.

If Marius meant to come to him, Armand wanted to get it over and done with. The simple movements to unlock the door had overwhelmed him with the consequences of his bodily neglect. His head pounded, and his mouth felt bone dry. He collapsed onto the bed.

The weakness of his fledgling’s distant heart rate tugged at Marius. He set his pencil and pad down before rising and strolling back to Armand’s room. “I do hope you have not withered away to nothing, Amadeo,” he called through the door with a knock.

“Would that I had,” Armand muttered, more to himself than anything. He would not be in such physical pain, nor would he be so mentally restless. “Close the door behind you.” It was all the confirmation he would give. If Marius could not discern that, then he was not the great mind he once was.

Marius entered and shut the door behind him to scrutinize his fledgling. “When did you feed last?” he asked, although he could already discern the answer. An answer he didn’t particularly like.

Armand sighed under the weight of an examination he’d not asked for. “Four or five days ago.” There was no sense in lying. It was painfully obvious that he was weaker than he should be when he could barely focus on the conversation. His throat ached with need, though his mind would not allow for its placation. “You’ve seen me. Now may I be alone?” He turned his head to the window, though the curtains were drawn.

“Not yet.” Marius used one of his nails to cut his wrist. He offered his fledgling his blood to help him get his strength back. Normally he would not reward such foolish behavior, but this was his Amadeo.

Armand couldn’t fathom how he accomplished it. Perhaps it was that the blood wasn’t human, though usually that would make no scratch on his lust for it. Perhaps it was his mind insisting on continuing this torture. Perhaps it was a mixture of things. But with a will of steel, Armand turned his head from his maker’s wrist, and gently pushed it away. He said nothing, though his body betrayed him and his fangs ached with need, the scent almost consuming him. He did not deserve sustenance.

Marius withdrew his arm. His fledgling was free to be stupid. Although he didn’t approve in the slightest. Rather, he felt a mix of worry, anger, and love towards him. His expression softened slightly. “Do you want to discuss what’s plaguing you?” he asked carefully, deciding on a different way of coaxing.

“Less than anything,” was the almost inaudible reply. He had already flagellated himself for what he had done and continued to do so. Marius’s inevitable judgment would only add fuel to this fire. The scent of his maker’s blood was going to his head, a delectable, nauseating temptation. In an attempt to distance himself from it, he moved from the bed finally, movements slowed by the hunger. “Will you not go and hunt, yourself?” It was another plea to be left alone.

“I do not need to,” he replied. “I’m old enough to go without for some time.” He stood there patiently. Marius knew when he was not wanted, but he could not bring himself to leave his fledgling to suffer. “I will not force you to talk, nor come with me. Though I would very much enjoy your company.”

Armand sighed softly. He was not so sure that he could face the outside world enough to hunt at this time. The street noise the last few nights had been so insufferable that he’d been forced to stuff most of his bedding against the window, and that did scant little to buffer it. “I violated Lestat’s mind when he had sought to keep me out of it,” he confessed. “I did it out of spite, to show him that I could. And I hurt him in the process.”

“Do you want someone to listen, or would you like advice?” Marius asked patiently as he moved closer to his fledgling. “I am willing to offer you both as well. But first, it would be a good idea to regain your strength. So that you can fix this and I can support you.”

Armand was infinitely surprised that no judgment came from Marius. He did not even deliver a reproachful look. Perhaps he had misjudged his intentions. He looked to him, the elder vampire slightly less discernible in the darkness than he would have been due to the thirst, but clear nonetheless. Armand dwelt on the question. He did not know how to answer. He knew that he could not face Lestat, and he did not know when he would be able to again. “I do not know what I want.” He spoke softly, making to pry apart the curtains for the first time in days. “I know that I do not want to feed.”

“Then allow me to offer you a little of both, caro mío,” Marius soothed. “Pride often makes fools of us. And guilt is often the reward for such behavior. But what you did, as foolish as it was, is not unforgivable nor does it make you evil.” He reached out and pushed a strand of auburn hair behind Armand’s ear. “If everyone starved themselves for making a mistake, there would be nothing left.”

Armand folded his arms, leaning slightly into the touch despite his pride. “Forgivability is in the eye of he who bestows it, Master,” he said gently, using the term as an apology for the spat. “With Lestat, you may only criticize the smallest thing, and he will cut you from his heart. I was aware of this, and still I hurt him. Physically and elseways—he seemed immensely disturbed. Now I make that I don’t care for him, but you know that I do. Almost too much.” He cast his gaze to the floor, keeping his voice low in some futile attempt to keep the conversation private. “You do not understand. I do not want to feed. It is only my body that thirsts. I do not want it. I do not deserve it.”

Marius listened with patience. “I know you care about him. You have a way about you where you push those you are fond of away. Out of fear or self punishment.” He paused and brushed his round cheek. “What you are feeling is normal. You are allowed. However, doing harm to yourself is something I can never condone.” There was another pregnant pause. “You have told me two different things. Is it the fact that you do not want it or think you don’t deserve it?”

“Your indamnible rationality,” Armand murmured, though there was no vigor or venom to it. Someone should not understand another person so well as this, to map out their thoughts and behaviors for analysis and force them to see reason when they felt so heavy at heart. “I do not want it because I do not deserve it,” he reasoned quietly. “Please…” he trailed off. He did not know how to continue, or what he truly meant to express.

Marius allowed it. There was a lot that the younger man had to unpack. “You deserve to sustain yourself,” he said. “When you regain your strength, I do not doubt you will reconcile your feelings. “

Armand sighed gently and looked to Marius’s long since healed wrist. “I am not sure that I will. Although under your persistent encouragement, it seems nonsensical to drag this out any longer.” He was not fully convinced of his own rational words. “I will hunt one life. Now tell me how on earth I might fix this.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?” he asked, relieved. “Speaking to Lestat might be the best place to start. At least, that is where I would start.”

Armand’s shoulders slumped in a vague disappointment. That was far out of the question. He was unsure of why he had expected his maker to answer with some miracle solution. “I want you with me.” He looked up at Marius with wide eyes.

“Then I will join you gladly,” he replied, his voice gentle. “You will need some strength for the hunt. I implore you to accept my offer.”

Armand cast his eyes to his maker’s wrist again, placing a gentle hand upon it. He was unsure of how to proceed, having never taken blood from Marius before without it being at least drawn for him. It seemed disrespectful and presumptuous. He caressed the vein with his thumb as he considered his own state. If he began to feed from Marius, he may not be able to stop. “If we hunt nearby, I should make it with relative ease.” He released Marius’s arm.

“Alright,” he replied, missing the touch on his wrist already. “I will bring you someone.”

Armand moved to take his coat and keys, briefly checking himself in the mirror. His hair was wild, and his eyes seemed fiercer than usual, dark circles accentuating them. If there were a poster child for sickness amongst vampires, he would quite literally be it.

“Come along,” Marius said. “You do not have much longer.” He certainly exaggerated, but he was still hoping to drive a point home without being too harsh.

Armand rolled his eyes and muttered, “I am centuries old. I have at least another five days before movement completely escapes me.” He pulled on his coat without deigning to fix his appearance. Tonight he would be the handsome vagabond, the vulnerable boy in dire straits. That was how he would seduce. Gently taking Marius’s hand, he led him from the room and out of the apartment, ignoring the red that twinged his vision as they made their way down the stairs.

Marius’s hand tightened around his, clutching it as if letting go meant losing Armand forever. At the same time, he was careful for he knew that Armand was not in peak condition. Squeezing back with the strength he had, Armand picked up speed. “Come, I want to find an easy target. I am in no mood to mess about with people or their lifeless corpses.”

“I am certain that there is a bar with plenty of people who would love to accompany you,” Marius said. “I will wait outside so as not to impede.”

Armand briefly considered the suggestion, but the mere thought of hunting tactfully at this moment, regardless of how briefly, exhausted him. He was here to take one life to please Marius. He needn’t have any fun from it. Some blocks away, he led Marius down a narrow alley strewn with dust bins and trash bags—a good alley for a murderer. Lifting his maker’s hand to his lips, Armand kissed it gently before retreating into the alleyway.

Marius did not approve of such filth, however, now was not the time nor the place to complain. “Be careful Amadeo,” he cautioned. Normally, he would not worry. But with the other in such rough condition, the concern was warranted.

Armand smiled softly as Marius’s voice echoed behind him. Not in centuries had he been cared for in such a way. He waited for a moment, spying on an unfortunate taking shelter beside a trash can. The sound of a human heart beating so close after so long made it pound as war drums in his ears. His mouth became dry and his vision focused, all pretenses of self-flagellation banished from his mind. He was upon the human in a flash, tearing into his throat. As the first pulse of blood met his lips, he moaned loud enough even for mortal ears.

As the mortal’s death came up on him, it was torture to pull away. Armand clutched the dying creature to him desperately, slender hands wrapped around its collar. A fraction of a second longer, and Armand himself would have taken the death into himself. Unfazed, he tore from the human and threw the lifeless body down, invigorated by the new life within him. His eyes glinted and his vision cleared, but as he licked the blood from his lips, he longed for more.

Fortunately for him, an ally of the victim clumsily approached, beholding Armand with silent horror. He willed the human to silence with a glance, ripping into his throat too. All pretenses of self-punishment were past him now; his body craved, thirsted. He took the second life with barely a thought, more cautious of the heartbeat on this occasion. He squatted over the body as it went down, undoubtedly looking like some hideous, possessed gargoyle. With a satisfied sigh, he dumped the second body and slid back against the alleyway wall, mindlessly allowing the blood upon his lips to dry this time. He gazed up at the slit of sky between the buildings, marveling at how clear everything had become. He flexed his hands, enjoying their newfound movement and speed. He could still kill another, he mused, then the padding of footsteps distracted him. They were not human.

To his left, a slightly bedraggled but mighty-looking husky walked out of the shadows. It looked to the unfortunate humans, then to him, though not with particular emotion. Armand tilted his head as the dog approached him, a large fluffy thing with frosted eyes.

Something flashed in Armand’s head then. An impulse. A friendly, lovable, larger-than-life dog. Lestat had a flair for the dramatic and dogs. What would please him more than a fully grown husky wandering around Tribeca?

Be it the rush of the hunt dulling his rationality or simply his own impulsiveness, he checked the dog for a collar. “Want a new home?” he asked softly as he found none. He didn’t wait for the dog to respond, naturally. He stood and scooped the thing up effortlessly in his arms, looking almost comical for the size of the creature. He carried it out of the alley to where Marius waited. “Let’s go home.”

Seeing Armand’s color and life had returned was enough to calm Marius’s mind, although he was not expecting the very large hound. There was always something when Armand was involved. “Do I dare ask?” He was unable to hide his skepticism. He never knew his Amadeo to be the sort to want the company of animals. “Is this dog included in the us you’re speaking of?”

Armand smiled slightly and nodded, as if proud of himself. “I’ve never particularly wanted a pet,” he murmured. “But I appear to have hunted this one out of house and home.” He transferred the dog to one hip and reached up to plant a gentle kiss on Marius’s cheek in gratitude for mostly withholding his judgment. “She’s the ideal companion for Lestat, no? Do you like her?” he asked as he began the walk home.

Marius appreciated the sign of affection. And he even moreso appreciated the fact that Armand was once again himself. Now he could focus on his next obstacle. He looked at the husky one more time before following Armand. “I think that the dog should be housebroken before I make my decision. You know how I feel about messes and bad smells.”

Armand’s smile broadened, and he allowed himself a small laugh as a new lease of life—quite literally—flowed through his veins. He knew that he had mostly won over his maker. “She’s already broken in. She’s a mature girl.” He was surprised at how calm the creature was that he didn’t have to influence its mind to keep it still. “Will you feed tonight?”

Marius had his doubts, but he knew fighting about it would drive his Amadeo away. So he held onto this point in case the dog was not yet housebroken after all. “No,” he replied simply. He didn’t care if he seemed hypocritical. “Tonight, I am focusing on you.”

“Only if you’re sure, Maestro,” he murmured. It was almost irresistible having Marius’s undivided attention upon him, and as much as he adored it, Armand found himself wishing to pay back the courtesy. He mused on all the methods of repayment Marius might enjoy best as they made their way back to the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Louis and Lestat again (finally!)


	8. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis wants to apologize to Lestat for asking if Marius was his maker.

Louis walked into the living room, intending for once to seek out Lestat. Their interactions had been sparse for the past three nights; Lestat had spent them all out until nearly dawn. Louis had seen nothing of Armand either, and Marius still intimidated him too much to spend any time in his company. The solitude had been enjoyable, but he could not stop thinking about what Armand had explained to him about Lestat’s temperamental reaction to Louis’s questions the other night. When he heard the typing of computer keys from the living room, Louis seized his chance to find his maker home for a change.

Since Armand had taken to sulking alone in his room, Lestat took advantage of the freedom to exercise full and complete reign of the apartment’s common area. He'd rearranged the living room furniture into a much more pleasing amalgamation, and now lounged on one of the couches, a foot up on the cushion, his computer in his lap, scrolling through local apartment listings.

He assumed Louis was just passing through on his way out to hunt. But when he sensed him linger in the room, Lestat glanced up. He'd meant to keep his expression schooled into neutrality, but he'd never had good control over his own face, and looking at Louis always did things to him. He looked back down at his computer quickly and continued to scroll even though he could hardly focus on the screen anymore. He didn't trust himself to speak. Not after how their last conversation ended.

Louis studied the room’s new layout. "I'm guessing Armand did not have a say in this," he said in attempt to make conversation. "It's not a bad arrangement." He wanted to say something about Lestat’s feet on the furniture, but he decided against starting yet another argument.

Before he could stop himself, Lestat glanced up at Louis again out of the corner of his eyes. But then he shrugged and pretended to be engrossed in the computer. "Couldn't say. Haven't seen him." That Louis liked what he’d done to the room gave Lestat more gratification than he expected, and he smiled faintly at his screen. He tapped to open a rental listing on his search. "How do you feel about balconies?"

Louis approached the couch and settled beside him without waiting for invitation. He figured Lestat wouldn't mind. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Armand either," he said thoughtfully. "Or Marius." He looked over Lestat’s shoulder to see what was on his screen. "What about balconies? Why?"

Lestat straightened to give Louis a better view of the computer. He circled his cursor around the image of a wrought iron balcony extending off a pre-war apartment. "Something like this?"

Louis’s brow furrowed. "You want a place of your own?" He used the singular, not completely sure Lestat would want him along.

Lestat's eyebrows shot up and he looked aside at Louis. As if he would ever move without him. He could have laughed at him for the assumption, but the fact that Louis didn't seem to mind that suggestion killed any urge for mirth. He didn't dare answer. He was afraid what he'd learn if he did.

"I think it suits you," Louis said, his eyes on the photograph, not seeming to notice Lestat’s reaction at all. "Although I didn't come here to discuss real estate."

Lestat’s finger slipped off the track pad. "Oh, and what did you come here to discuss, Louis?" His tone took on a mocking echo of Louis’s seriousness.

Louis thought about how to word it. "About the other night...I owe you an apology." He spoke quietly, sounding more vulnerable than he'd let himself sound in ages.

Lestat blinked. Uncanny, that Louis would apologize for upsetting him given that most of what upset him was that Louis hadn't seemed to realize he'd even done it. Louis had been so utterly oblivious to Lestat’s desires in that moment after he killed that man at the river.

"I should not have pried,” Louis continued. “It was not appropriate."

Ah, of course. It wasn’t about that at all. Louis meant something else entirely. Lestat’s eyes fell in disappointment, and he closed his computer, setting it aside on the coffee table. "If it wasn't appropriate,” he said, the mockery gone from his tone, “I would have told you not to do it." Shaking his head, he shifted on the couch to face him.

But Louis _was_ apologizing. Lestat could not discount that fact, even if it was for questions Lestat hadn’t actually minded. Louis must _want_ something out making this gesture, and that fact gave Lestat hope. "But I'll forgive you all the same," he said with joking formality. He put a palm on Louis's forehead. " _Absolvo_."

It felt like a weight lifted off Louis’s shoulder. He placed a light hand atop Lestat’s. "My hair is a mess now."

"Nonsense." His hand lingered for a moment beneath Louis's before he made himself withdraw. Sinking back against the cushions, Lestat let his eyes rove over him. "What you're wearing, on the other hand...." He shook his head. He needed to take Louis shopping. Perhaps first thing tomorrow evening before the stores closed.

"What is wrong with what I am wearing? I am wearing the same sort of outfit I wear every night."

Lestat rolled his eyes. "Exactly.” They were in New York, now. There was no excuse. “But you want to ask questions about Marius?" he returned to the subject at hand, not sounding as if he minded at all. "Then let's talk about Marius."

"I do...and you're okay with it?" Louis was determined not to get into another argument. Not tonight

He’d half hoped Louis would deny it, would say there was something else he wanted to talk about instead. But Lestat could hardly blame him. He held in a sigh and his hand pressed against the couch's back, the texture of the fabric working into his fingertips. "I wouldn't have brought you to him if I wasn't."

"What does he mean to you?" he asked. "How did you meet him?" Louis was not about to hold back while he had the chance.

What did Marius _mean_ to him? Lestat had never thought about it in so many words, not since he actually met the ancient vampire anyway. And he certainly didn't _mean_ the same thing he had before for the ten years Lestat spent searching for him across the world. Not that that was a bad thing.

"I asked," he finally answered, with a shrug. "Armand told me about him. A long time ago... He told me Marius was dead, but I didn't believe it. So I asked him to come to me. And he did." His fingers curled, his nails softly scratching the fabric of the couch. "You don't need to be afraid of him, you know. You are mine, and so he would never harm you."

Louis appreciated the fact that he got an actual response. A response that he could tell was making Lestat uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't understand. "I will find solace in that, then," he replied as he tried not to give much thought to the way his heart had begun to race when Lestat called him _his_. Subconsciously, he reached over. He didn't even realize he’s done such a thing until his hand was next to his maker's.

The tiny gesture was all the invitation Lestat required, and his hand moved over Louis's. Straightening on the couch, he faced him again and put his other hand against the side of Louis's face, his fingers curling into the hair above his temple as he tipped their foreheads together.

He'd missed him, truly, in the last few nights of tense silence. What had happened in his bedroom with Armand had preoccupied Lestat for much of the time, but that ache for Louis's company lingered throughout. His eyes squeezed tight, and he whispered, "I want to see you kill again."

Louis pressed his hand lightly as his heart continued to race, a blush rising to his face. "We can go tonight," he said, impulse winning his internal battle.

A soft gasp caught in Lestat's throat, and a shudder rolled through him. He wanted to go _now now now_. And this time, after Louis had killed, perhaps the moment would be different. Perhaps Louis would realize how he wanted him. His hand tightened, but he refrained from squeezing hard enough to hurt, feeling the shiver that radiated through Louis. Pulling back far enough to see him, he brushed his thumb along Louis’s cheekbone before he forced himself to make his hand fall to his shoulder instead. Moving here was the right decision after all. "I know just the place."

"And what place is that?" Louis inquired, too enthralled to really think this through.

"Oh, you'll hate it, I'm sure." His lips twitched in small smile. "But it will serve its purpose." Reluctantly, he made himself release Louis, feeling somehow colder for doing so even though Louis had hardly been warm to the touch. Even if nothing were to happen between them, the image of Louis killing the other night had replayed in his mind so many times, it was starting to wear thin. Lestat craved fresh visuals to replace it. But it was too early in the evening to be killing in this city, so he'd somehow manage to wait for the deeper parts of night.

Louis held back a smile of his own, for he knew that Lestat was completely correct in his statement. He didn't need to know exactly what place he was referring to in order to ascertain that. "I'll play along," he said. "Where are you going to take me?" Part of him already knew he'd regret this.

An amused glimmer game into his eyes as Lestat considered whether it would go over better if he told Louis or just surprised him; he’d be uncomfortable in public regardless of where they went. Pulling his computer off the table back into his lap, he flipped it open to look up the place to show Louis. When the screen brightened on his apartment search, though, he frowned as it reminded him of all that had been on his mind before. All that had occurred with Armand. He bookmarked the page, then closed the tab. "Did you know the circus is in town?" he said, trying to act like that was all he cared about as navigated to the site. "I know where the afterparty is."

"No," Louis said, both in response to the question and a rejection of the location. "Absolutely not.”

Lestat's eyebrows shot up, disappointment simmering within him. As usual, Louis wasn't thinking practically. Not at all about the strategy of killing.

“Why can we not go for another stroll in the park?” Louis continued. “Or camp out a theatre. Something worthy of our time." For probably the first time, he spoke of them both as equals, abandoning his usual classism.

Slowly, Lestat looked up at him, taking in his features, the depth of his eyes. From the way it sounded, Louis wanted to be _alone_ with Lestat. And as much as Lestat craved to be in the midst of things, _that_ was something he could never dismiss. And so he simply nodded, a bit at a loss for words. He closed his computer silently. "Too late for theatres," he said after his breath came back. He yearned to clasp Louis's forearm, but he refrained. "We'll go down to Battery Park. See... see the statue of liberty while we're at it."

Louis couldn't help but to wonder what was going through his maker's mind. His head lowered self-consciously, but he didn't run off nor put up walls as he usually did. "It will be nice at this hour," he said. Standing, he offered Lestat his arm.

Not only did Louis want to be alone with him, but he wanted to be so right away? Lestat feared he wouldn’t even be able to move for how the revelation overwhelmed him. He took Louis’s arm and rose, but instead of making to go, he drew Louis close to him, as if to whisper in his ear. Louis stepped closer, his heart pounding, his cheeks a very pale pink.

Just as his lips brushed the side of Louis’s hair, a scuttling from the stairwell outside the apartment caught Lestat’s attention, like the hard nails of a rambunctious animal. He blinked, glancing to the foyer. “Do you hear something?”

"I do,” Louis said, pulling away from the moment. “It sounds like a dog. Although...we do not have a dog."

The front door opened and Lestat’s fingers tightened protectively around Louis’s arm…until a large pale husky bounded into the apartment, running straight for them in the living room. Lestat laughed.

Behind it, lingering in the doorway, Armand cursed under his breath, then sighed deeply. "We have one now."


	9. Cleansing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand wants to apologize to Lestat for violating his mind.

Abandoning Louis to catch the excited dog before she wreaked havoc on the room he’d just spent so much time rearranging, Lestat was too distracted by their new guest to remember his anger towards Armand. “Who’s this?” he asked as he took the husky’s face firmly between his hands. Making her look into his eyes, he brought her under his psychic control so that she sat and panted calmly.

“Whoever you want it to be,” Armand said quietly from the doorway.

Louis backed away. He didn’t have anything against dogs, per se. But in his opinion, they did not belong in the living room. At least, not when he didn’t know the dog. He considered bringing this up until he took in how happy Lestat looked, crouched on the floor stroking the animal. It was almost endearing. So he kept his mouth shut.

The sight also made Armand sigh with relief. As Marius stepped into the foyer behind him, he instinctively leaned back. “She’s yours, if you want her,” he said to Lestat. “Otherwise I’ll take her to a shelter tomorrow.”

Lestat’s face snapped up, and he fixed Armand with a glare. “You perfect beast. They’ll destroy her!” Curling his fingers into the fine (albeit dirty) fur at the scruff of her neck, he let his eyes roam over her coat, checking for any obvious signs she wasn’t fit to live. But as far as he could tell, she was hale and healthy and sweet-dispositioned at that. “You just need a bath, don’t you?” he said, his voice dripping sweet to the dog in a way it never did with anyone else.

Marius placed a reassuring hand on Armand’s shoulder, mostly to remind him that he was there. And also as a warning not to push anyone’s buttons. “There needs to be ground rules,” he said firmly. “An apartment should not be a toilet for a dog.”

Lestat rolled his eyes. “They vastly prefer grass and dirt.” He scritched the husky behind the ears. “Don’t you? Yes you do.” She thumped her tail on the floor, earning a smile from Lestat.

Marius raised a brow in disbelief. “I personally prefer cats,” he said before leaving to go to his room. This night had taken a toll on him, and as much as he wanted to be there for Armand, he knew his fledgling needed to work on his relationship with Lestat. Marius trusted Armand didn’t need him there for that.

After another affectionate moment, Lestat stood and pointed in the direction of the bathroom, urging the dog to go that way with his mind. She obeyed without resistance. “What a beauty,” he said with an impressed sigh. Then, as if suddenly remembering Armand existed, he shot him a dubious look. “I didn’t even know you liked animals.” Though the words were simple, they hinted at an underlying implication that liking animals was beyond Armand’s emotional capacity.

He folded his arms. “Yes, well I believe I killed her owners, and she seemed the perfect fit for you.” He spoke frankly, unwilling to beat around the bush. He could get used to this, a constant stream of passive aggressive jibes. It was almost their normality.

There had to be an insult in that comment somewhere. Lestat’s eyes narrowed faintly, though the look wasn’t threatening so much as guarded. He had no idea what Armand’s motivations might be, but he wasn’t about to let an innocent dog suffer for the other vampire’s sinister machinations.

Lestat bit back any retort and simply let the icy look in his eyes convey the message along with his closed off mind. Then he left the room silently to follow the dog to the bathroom. The door closed behind him, leaving Louis alone with Armand, and moments later, they heard the bath water running.

Louis had not moved from where he stood, unsure what had just happened. Nor was he certain if he should ask. “Should I go an’ check on him?” he asked Armand, the edge of his Louisiana accent creeping over his words before he could stop it, his mind too focused on processing the scene he’d witnessed to attend his speech pattern.

The way Louis spoke…there was something about it. Some spark of a memory in Armand’s head. And then he recalled it—a dream he’d had about Louis… He’d sounded this way in Armand’s dream. Only, there had been more than that. As the memories flooded back quicker than Armand could control, he found himself quite glaringly blushing in front of Louis. “N—No.” He steeled himself, taking a breath to retain his dignity. “Or, if you’d just give me a moment with him first?”

Louis took in Armand’s reaction with confusion, not understanding what he’d done to cause it. He folded his hands behind his back as he racked his brain, but he quickly returned to focus. “Sure. Of course,” he said, his normal inflection returning. “I will be in my room to clean up the aftermath,” he added as an attempted jest.

Armand nodded his gratitude. He would have appreciated the comment had he not been so focused on what he was about to do. With a heavy sigh, he left the room, walking to the bathroom door and remaining outside of it.

“She was my means of an apology,” he began, knowing Lestat could hear him through the door and over the water. “Not a very apt or appropriate one, I’ll admit. And it very much seems an attempt to gloss over any wrongdoings, because it is.” He made no attempt to enter, assuming that Lestat wouldn’t want to see him, much less lend him an ear. He might as well accept all he said would fall on deaf ears. Regardless of the sincerity he felt, Armand wondered if he would even believe himself.

Lestat had become so wrapped up in bathing the playful dog that he almost didn’t register Armand’s voice through the door. But as it carried through the splashing, what he said didn’t make much sense at all. How could a gift, even one as precious as this pet, make up for the way Armand had treated him? And not just the other night, but the way Armand has always behaved as long as he’d known him. And moreover, why would Armand even care? Lestat’s hands slowed as he finished rinsing the shampoo out of the dog’s fur.

“For the record,” Armand continued. “I am deeply sorry for what I did. I regret it profoundly, and you needn’t believe me or humor me.”

Flicking the water from his fingers, Lestat leaned back where he was crouching on the floor to pop open the door. He looked up at Armand with silent guarded eyes, not believing in his regret for a moment. Perhaps Armand _wished_ he regretted it, but he didn’t actually. Lestat put one hand on the dog’s back as she licked herself contentedly in the tub, but his eyes didn’t leave Armand. After another moment of staring at him incredulously, he finally spoke. “Come here.”

Armand almost did not want to. He could not bear to fathom what might come next, though he deserved the full extent of it. His dream about Louis came back to him once more. Perhaps the dream version of Louis had been wrong in its assessment. Perhaps there was nothing to Armand but monstrosity.

Warily, he approached Lestat and sat against the wall below the towel rack, pulling his knees to his chest. He truly did feel remorse. It was all he had felt for the last few days; it had consumed him more than the thought of blood. Did Lestat truly believe him to be so devoid of any goodness?

Sitting back on his heel, Lestat brushed his hair out of his face with a wet hand and studied Armand with an expression that mixed consternation and caution. He’d been so sure he’d known what Armand wanted when he invited him to live with him, and then all that had been so quickly shattered. Now he must second guess every word and action, too well aware of how deceptive the other vampire could be even when their minds weren’t closed to each other as they were now.

“Hand me that towel,” Lestat said curtly, gesturing to the one hanging above Armand’s head.

Armand did so without a qualm, ignoring the fact that it was his own towel. They were easy enough to obtain. He watched Lestat’s face, hoping to gauge his thoughts but trying not to do so too intently lest he seem obsessive. He would wait as long as it took for some resolution between them, even if the dawn took him out on the bathroom floor.

As he turned his back on Armand to drape the towel over the dog, Lestat grew obviously tenser, as if bracing for Armand to attack him at any moment. Rubbing the dog dry, he gave her a kiss on the nose. “There you go, cherie. Much better, hm?” As she hopped out of the tub, Lestat sat back against the wall to give her room to move, glancing at Armand out of the corner of his eye. He had to hand it to the little beast, had the whole regretful act down pat. “Well, don’t you look the picture of perfect misery and contrition.”

The dog stepped gracefully over Lestat’s legs, and the towel slid off her to the floor. Lestat sensed what was coming next and lifted a hand to block himself just in time as she shook the remaining water out of her fur. Armand, however, was sprayed in the face. He attempted to school the disgust from his expression to disguise the fact that he already regretted bringing the dog into his house.

 _Look the picture of perfect misery and contrition_ _… Picture…_ He could not find the appropriate answer. It seemed as though if they were to move past this, Armand would just have to let Lestat tear him apart as much as he needed to. So he simply agreed. “It appears that I do.”

Lestat’s hands clenched in frustration. He grabbed the towel to dry them off, then stood, dropping it back on the floor carelessly. Moving around the damp dog, he began opening up the bathroom cupboards and rooting through them. “Don’t you have a hair dryer here anywhere?”

“I’ll make a point to get one,” Armand said quietly. Standing, he hung the towel back in its rightful place.

Lestat blinked, lifting his eyes to Armand’s reflection in the mirror behind him. “With that head of hair of yours, you don’t have a hair dryer?”

He glanced up. Did Lestat want him gone? He’d asked Armand in, for what? To torture him with mundane requests for the remainder of their night? Still, he stayed planted in his spot.

The dog nudged at Lestat’s legs and he put an affectionate hand down on her head as he turned around to face Armand again. Staring at him silently, he tried to decipher the look in his wide dark eyes, but was unable to draw any conclusions. Which just made him more frustrated, a feeling Lestat had no patience to tolerate.

Stepping forward to close the short distance between them, he put a hand against Armand’s chest as if he meant to pin him to the wall, but the pressure wasn’t great enough to do it. Not yet. He looked down to study him with a frown, their faces very close. “I might go,” he said, so quietly, as if to not be overheard. “Find a place uptown.”

Armand could not school his expression against those words. They acted as a punch to the gut. His brow furrowed deeply, his eyes pooling with hurt, regret, want. He blinked, opening his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. In this sense, he was nothing akin to Lestat. He felt just as intensely, though he felt almost everything internally.

The fact that Lestat had even said this was enough to bring the telltale sting of blood tears to Armand’s eyes. He wanted him to stay. But to beg would only open more doors to spite and ridicule. After not even two weeks, Lestat was making plans to leave. Were they so incompatible?

His gaze fell, and he made no attempt to move Lestat’s hand. This could likely be the last time for a long time that he would feel Lestat’s touch. “If you wish it,” he said weakly. 

Lestat’s fingers curled into Armand’s shirt. He wanted to pick him up and shake him until the truth finally came out. He could tell he’d wounded Armand, but Lestat was still no closer to understanding his true motivations.

“Though you’ll take her, won’t you?" Armand added. "She’ll be good with you.” 

Making his fingers unclench, Lestat's hand slipped away, though the echo of Armand’s heartbeat lingered against his palm. “Maybe I will,” he said stiffly. “Maybe I won’t.”

Forcing himself to turn from Armand’s bewitching face, his eyes found the dog’s again. Her tongue came out in a happy pant, and she cocked her head to the side. It was enough to crack Lestat’s demeanor, and she earned another smile from him. Turning to the door, he gestured for her to follow, and he left Armand behind in the bathroom without another word.

After a few minutes, Armand managed to make it back to his chambers without thinking too deeply. Though the second his door shut behind him, he had to muffle a sob with his hand.

It hurt too much, too profoundly. It was maddening—the fact that Lestat knew he had hurt him, the burn of his touch still upon Armand’s chest, the fact that someone could cause him this much pain. It made him want to tear the hair from his own head.

He locked his door and attempted to calm himself, ensuring that no other sound escaped his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much to everyone leaving comments so far. They're the best part of my day and so motivating to continue this!


	10. Ropes and Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Lestat deal with the new addition to their family. Armand tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw the Covid19 pandemic does not exist in this AU

In his room, Louis sat cross legged on his bed, writing in his journal.

_In the month of May in the year of our Lord 2020_

_I have been trying my hardest to find a word to describe tonight. But that would mean finding a word to describe my thoughts, which I am not quite sure I have a grasp on yet. So I am going to settle on using the word confusing, for it solves the problem without being too committed._

_The evening started normally enough. Though I did manage to get Lestat alone…which is probably the first confusing thing, since I’ve lately been more focused on doing the opposite._

_I don’t hate him…I can’t hate him even though I sometimes want to. But I digress._

_We had a civil conversation. I needed to apologize to clear my conscience of my earlier transgressions against him. I cannot cohabitate with someone for the rest of time with a weight on my shoulders._

_But the more I’ve spoken with him_

_I started to feel_

_It’s been a long time since I’ve genuinely felt love…not sure if I ever did._

_But I am pretty sure that this is what it feels like_ _…_

A knock on his bedroom door interrupted Louis. He didn’t need to be told it was Lestat. No one else knocked like that.

“It’s open,” he said as he finished the thought on the page. “You can come in if you want to.”

If he wanted to? Lestat could have laughed if the conversation with Armand hadn’t put him in such a dour mood.

When he’d returned the living room after the dog’s bath and found Louis gone, he’d assumed Louis had lost interest in their plans. He’d considered going out alone with just the dog, but then Lestat decided to give Louis one more chance.

As he opened the door, the dog shot past him, bounding into Louis’s room and jumping up onto the bed to make her freshly clean self comfortable beside where he sat. That did manage to make Lestat laugh despite his mood.

Going around to the opposite side of the bed, Lestat put a knee on it to reach across and roll her toward him away from Louis. “What do you think?” he asked. “Does she seem more like a Desdemona or a Rosalind to you?”

“There is a dog on my bed,” Louis retorted. It didn’t matter if the dog just had a bath. It was still a dog, and his bed was no longer clean. “I think she should go on the floor.”

Lestat kept rolling her until she floomped down to the rug. Turning, he sat on the edge of the bed, putting her between his feet and he leaned over her, taking her face in his hands. “Naughty girl. You’ve upset Louis.”

Louis inspected his journal, fearing the dog might have wrinkled the pages, though he finally answered Lestat’s question about her name. “Lilith is what I’m partial to.”

Rubbing her lovingly between her ears, Lestat considered it. “You would be,” he said, faintly amused. Louis was so damn Catholic. “But I don’t think she has the bite for it. What about Cordelia? Louis,” he added, too distracted by the dog’s serene, pale face to wait for his answer, “have you ever seen such beautiful blue eyes?”

A light blush colored Louis’s cheeks. “I have,” he said before he could stop himself. His gaze shifted from the dog to Lestat. He closed his journal abruptly and set it on the nightstand. “Cordelia…” he repeated. “I can live with that.”

The fact that Louis would compliment his eyes, even in such an awkward way, made Lestat suspicious. But the response still touched something within him that made him stare over his shoulder at Louis and his own beautiful eyes.

Until Louis got up and started to strip the sheets off his bed for the laundry.

Lestat shifted down to sit on the rug with the dog, shaking his head. “Can you believe him, Cordelia? What a priss. Well, you’re welcome in my bed anytime.” He rubbed her again and she licked his hand. “Yes, I think Cordelia it is.” He looked back up at Louis, following his pink-faced actions from the floor with a thoughtful frown even as his hands lingered in the dog’s coat. It was just so nice so hold something so warm.

She abruptly made to jump after the wafting sheets, but Lestat caught before she could get on the bed again. “Oh no you don’t,” he whispered. He pressed his face against her clean fur, both as part of holding her back and to hide his own expression as the blush tinting Louis’s cheeks continued to warm him. However, the smell of Armand’s shampoo in her fur managed to sour Lestat’s mood again.

Louis regained his composure quickly. “Please keep her down. It’s not easy to wash a mattress,” he muttered although he was glad for a change of subject.

“Do you still want to go out?” Lestat asked without looking up at him.

“I do,” he decided. “So long as your hound stays off the bed.”

“We’ll take her with us.” Lestat pulled back from Cordelia and studied her for a moment, then he frowned. “Except we have no leash. Where did Armand steal this poor thing from, anyway? Purebred huskies don’t just roam the streets. Not in a city like this. I hope she’s not chipped.” He pressed around the back of her neck, but didn’t feel anything. “We have much to do, don’t we, Cordelia?” With a faint sigh, he stood, keeping one hand on her so she couldn’t get near Louis’s bed again. “There must be something around here that can serve as a lead until we can go properly shopping tomorrow.”

Louis wasn’t sure about having the dog’s company tonight, but Lestat seemed so set on it that he decided it was best not to argue. “Rope works fine,” he suggested with a shrug.

The thought of putting a rope around the poor dog’s neck appalled Lestat, but he supposed it would have to do for now. He nodded reluctantly. “Go ask Armand where he keeps his rope.” His focus shot down to the dog to avoid letting Louis see how thoughts of Armand changed his expression. “He’s in his room.”

Clicking his tongue, Lestat beckoned Cordelia to follow him, and he left Louis’s chambers to go to his own so he could change his clothes, speaking softly to her as they went, “I can’t believe he stripped the bed.”

Louis abandoned the sheets into a basket and approached Armand’s room, deciding to go along with Lestat’s request. Laundry could wait, anyhow.

He reached out and knocked on the door. “Armand?” he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he were busy. “I’m so sorry to be a bother, but do you have any rope?”

Armand was startled out of his morose thoughts. He had not even heard the approaching footsteps. He dried his eyes, not thinking to check his reflection as the request made him frown. “Yes,” he said, his voice husky with sorrow. “Though I can’t fathom what you may need it for.”

Louis could tell something was off, but he wasn’t certain how to handle it. He considered seeking out Marius, but then again, he didn’t know the elder vampire well enough for that. “The beast Lestat is toting about needs a lead,” Louis clarified. “I assure you I’ll replace it.”

Armand nodded as he thought on this, resigning himself to the fact that he’d have to go out and reveal the state he was in to search for the damn thing. He dried his eyes one more time for good measure and took a breath, as if that would do anything to combat his current appearance. Opening the door, he made a brief, polite effort to look at Louis. “Well, I’m sure we can find something better than a scratchy rope for her in this whole apartment.”

The sight of Armand’s face tugged at Louis’s heartstrings. “Wait… Forgive me for asking, but is everything alright?” His tone was warm and almost gentle. “I know you don’t know me well…but if you want to talk…I’m a good listener.”

Armand looked away. The gentleness in Louis’s voice, the concern…it was almost enough to send him over the edge again. He didn’t deserve this kind of compassion. And it was too much like that cursed, wicked dream he’d had. He rubbed his arms, feeling colder than he had before he fed. At least he had his anger to keep him company then. Finally, he shook his head in reply.

“If you're sure,” Louis said, unable to push back his concern. He knew Armand was deflecting, but he also knew that pressing the issue would do more harm than good.

Armand smiled weakly. “Let’s find this lead.”

“Alright, I appreciate it.”

He could tell that Louis was worrying about him. He wanted to tell him not to, that every misery he was experiencing he had brought upon himself. Armand hadn’t needed to even open his mouth to once again manipulate someone into thinking they cared about him. What a devil he truly was.

He offered Louis another smile, though it did not reach his eyes. “We’ll try the kitchen first. Denis keeps all sorts in there.”

“Right.” Louis nodded as he followed alongside Armand through the halls. He kept his arms by his side and his gaze forward. “Have you seen Marius?” he asked, hoping that talk of him would lighten the mood.

Armand quirked a brow, wondering almost defensively why Louis would ask after his maker. “He’ll be in his room.” Then, with a sigh, he let his guard down, exhausted with feeling so toxic and fragile. “He seemed to want to be alone when he left us all in the living room, though it was likely to remove himself from the situation. I’m sure if you sought him out, he’d welcome you.” He opened the door to the kitchen and flicked on the light.

Louis shook his head. “No, I was going to go on a walk with Lestat, but I don’t wish to leave you alone like this,” he admitted, figuring honesty was probably the safest bet. “I’d like you to be cared for, and I thought Marius would be the one most equipped to do that in our absence.”

Armand would have laughed had he not felt so wretched. “I can care for myself, Louis. And Marius has done more than enough for me this night.” He began to rummage through kitchen cupboards piled with useless things. What did vampires need with a quesadilla press? “Besides, I am well enough.”

Louis wasn’t convinced. However, he did not say anything. Instead, he watched Armand search, making a mental note of the items in the cabinets. “Can I help in any way?”

And a set of barbecue forks? For what? “Perhaps a belt would work,” Armand thought aloud. “It’s surely better than a rope.” He turned to Louis, already frustrated at the fruitlessness of his kitchen search.

“It could,” he replied. “I’ll make it work.” Not that he particularly wanted to use a belt as a leash. But he could sense Armand’s frustration. “Thank you kindly for your help,” he added. “I’ll suggest it to Lestat, and we will be back before long.” Though what damage would come to the belt after a night with the dog, he could only imagine.

Armand rolled his eyes and almost laughed. “Not a belt then. You should not be afraid to say no to somebody.” He drummed his fingers on the granite counter top in thought, not reluctant for Louis’s company, but certainly reluctant of the search for a makeshift leash when all he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and weep until the dawn came.

“Saying no to someone in their own house is less than polite,” Louis pointed out. “So I will go along with whatever you think is best.” He hesitated. “Do you have a chain of sorts?”

Armand could not name half of the things in his own room, never mind the apartment. After a moment’s thought, he unlatched his own belt and removed it, handing it to Louis. “Just use this. Then if it comes back destroyed, it matters not.” He nodded, unwilling to rack his mind anymore for something he cared so little about.

Louis took it. “Again, thank you kindly. And if you ever want to talk…” Although he remained polite, he continued to allow his concern to show. “I…will see you later no?” he asked cautiously.

“At some point, I would imagine, Louis,” he replied, hoping to douse all concerns, though his tone was not unkind. “We live together after all.” Armand opened the kitchen door and gestured for Louis to pass through first.

Louis gave him another nod of thanks before taking his leave to bring the belt to Lestat’s room.

Meanwhile, Armand made his way back to his own chambers, caring not about the mess he left in the kitchen. Denis would tend to it in the morning. With a small sigh, he closed his door and crawled onto his bed, feeling emptier and even more detached from the world than he had the last three nights.


	11. The View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestat wants to get some important points across to Louis as they go hunting in Battery Park.

In Lestat’s room, the dog had immediately jumped on the bed the same as she’d done in Louis’s, but Lestat hadn’t mind at all. “Comfortable are you?” he’d asked with a laugh. “Need another pillow?” Taking one of the tasseled cushions, he’d tucked it under her chin. “There you are, love.”

Then he’d changed out of his shirt, which was damp from the bath, into a dry one. And then into a new everything else while he was at it. Sure, he and Louis were just going to walk down to Battery Park, but who knew where Lestat would end up afterward. He’d fixed his hair and was in the process of stuffing a couple thousand dollars into his pocket just in case when Louis’s knock came at his door.

“May I come in?” Louis asked patiently. “Armand and I were unable to find something to use as a leash.” He chose his words carefully because he knew the belt he carried would not serve the purpose.

Lestat opened his door and stepped back to allow Louis to see in, but he lifted a finger to his lips. “Shhh. She’s sleeping.”

Cordelia lay across the bed like a glorious pale queen amid the lushly vibrant cushions and duvets. Even Louis had to admit she looked adorable.

Lestat took one last moment to enjoy the sight before slipping out into the hall and closing the door softly behind him. “Poor thing’s had an exciting night.”

“I’m sure,” Louis muttered. “Not every night that one ends up living with a bunch of vampires. Are you ready to go now?”

Lestat gave him a faint smile in response. He’d changed his entire outfit, after all. He was far more ready than Louis was, though he knew not to expect anything more from him. Lestat touched Louis’s side as he moved past him to go get his coat. He paused in putting it on as he noticed what Louis carried. “Is that…a belt?”

Louis had almost forgotten about it. “Yes. Armand’s,” he replied, thinking nothing of how strange the situation might seem out of context.

Lestat blinked and just stared at Louis for a moment, only one sleeve of his coat on. “I send you for rope, and you end up…taking off his pants?”

Louis sputtered. “No…it ain’ like that. He couldn’ find rope an’ he thought this’d work.”

Lestat continued to stare as he rambled, his eyes widening a fraction of an inch. “Are you…sure? The Louis doth protest too much, methinks.”

“I am completely sure. Sure as the sun rises each morn.” He was blushing furiously now. “Besides, Armand has eyes for Marius, not me.”

“Damn Armand’s eyes,” Lestat said on the edge of a laugh, and he slipped on his coat sleeve, then snatched the belt from Louis. “You’re talking nonsense, my friend. And in an excruciatingly American way.” Even in this day and age, Americans were so hilariously repressed, and Louis was far from any exception. “Look at you,” he teased. “You’d crawl into a hole now, wouldn’t you? And because of this?” He slapped the belt lightly against his palm.

Louis’s embarrassment overwhelmed him, made him unable to react. “Lestat…” he argued. It was all he could manage.

Smirking, Lestat tossed the belt carelessly over his shoulder. It hit the coat closet door and slid unceremoniously to the floor to be forgotten. Although he was mostly distracted by Louis’s hilariously flustered reaction, in the back of his mind, he did wonder how desperate Armand must be to convince Lestat he meant to appease him in order to take off his very belt.

But Lestat still couldn’t be convinced it wasn’t all some devious elaborate trick on Armand’s part. He had no idea how deep the other vampire would go to reach some convoluted potentially diabolical end.

“You’re absolutely miserable, aren’t you?” He jabbed Louis lightly in the side with two fingers. “Your face is as pink as a human’s.”

Louis flinched. “It is not proper to speak of such things outside of a relationship,” he countered, trying and failing to maintain an ounce of dignity.

“A good thing I’ve never given a damn about propriety.” Lestat smirked again. “But shall I hold back my tongue for your delicate sensibilities, Louis? I know how much my tongue offends you. Is talk of Armand’s pants too scandalous for your American constitution? You prefer to just keep those thoughts in here, hm?” He tapped Louis’s temple, keeping his eyes locked on his. But then just as quickly, he stepped back, giving Louis space again. “You certainly look like you could use some fresh air. Let’s go.” Turning, he opened the apartment’s front door and went out to the stairs.

“Lestat,” he implored after him. “My sensibilities are not delicate.” Louis crossed his arms, doing his best to appear annoyed. But strangely enough, he wasn’t.

“Aren’t they?” he asked casually over his shoulder. That was certainly news to him.

“Right…” Louis murmured. “Fresh air would do us all some good.” Relenting, he followed his maker to the stairwell.

Lestat made himself stay several steps ahead of Louis, not trusting what he might do with him if he let himself get too close again. Not with Louis looking so deliciously frustrated. Skimming down the stairs, he stuffed his hands into the deep pockets of his long wool coat. He’d never needed such a garment in Louisiana, but the New York weather felt an entire season behind their former home. He couldn’t imagine how chilled Louis would feel in the night air in only his worn sweater.

Once he reached the building’s main door, he held it, waiting for Louis to catch up. Then as they emerged onto the street, he spoke again, his tone still casual, but all of the previous humor now absent. “Did Armand…say anything?”

“No,” Louis replied, unable to hide his concern. “He did seem a bit…off, though. I pray Marius is there to care for him.” He offered his arm, and Lestat promptly snaked his own through it.

Walking close to his side as if they needed to whisper conspiratorially, Lestat turned right onto Church street, which had become mostly deserted by this hour, and led them down toward the battery. He frowned for a long thoughtful moment as he considered Louis’s words. “Is that what you pray for?” he murmured.

Louis’s hand had instinctively moved atop Lestat’s as they walked, and he thought quietly for a block before responding. “Not solely,” he admitted.

“ _Off_ how?”

Louis fell silent again as he recalled Armand’s behavior. “Melancholy, but not in a usual way. Something is bothering him, but I do not know how to inquire.”

Oh, Lestat knew what was bothering Armand all right. But what mattered was what Armand would _do_ about it. His grip tightened on Louis just faintly, as if he feared Louis was about turn around and go back home to inquire after all. “Be careful with Armand,” he said quietly after another moment, trying to sound as casual as possible, keeping his eyes ahead. “He is beautiful, I know. He will tempt you. And you may give in. But promise me you will be careful.”

Louis’s brow furrowed. He’d clearly missed something. “He’s welcomed us into his home. I have no reason to be suspicious of him.” Louis valued hospitality. “I don’t see anything to be careful of.”

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you this now.” Stiffening, Lestat glanced up from where his eyes had been fixed on the sidewalk to look at Louis’s in the light of the street lamps.

He honestly didn’t think Armand would attempt to drive him and Louis apart as he’d once tried to do with Gabrielle. Surely Armand had learned better by now. Surely they were past all that. And yet… Lestat couldn’t put the suspicion entirely behind him. What if?

What if.

Lestat’s hold on Louis was already so tenuous, he doubted it would take much effort on Armand’s part if he actually set his mind to destruction. _What if_ , indeed.

“Just promise me,” he said with a sigh. “Please.”

This was more than Lestat’s normal level of possessiveness and paranoia. Louis stopped in his tracks and placed his free hand on Lestat’s shoulder. “I cannot promise with no facts to back it up,” he said quietly. “Pray tell, what are you afraid of?” His voice mixed concern with a hint of fear.

Lestat tensed under Louis’s touch. He stared into his emerald eyes for a hesitating moment before his gaze slipped past him to track a mortal man who walked up the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. “Nothing,” he said quietly, but seriously. “If Armand frightened me, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”

The tension in Lestat tightened. But when the mortal turned the corner out of sight, his focus grew distant. Shrugging off Louis’s touch, he turned to continue walking, putting both his hands back in his coat pockets, his gaze once more on the sidewalk.

Louis let out a soft sigh. “Alright… You have my word that I’ll tread carefully.” He glanced over his shoulder before following again, his hands folded neatly behind his back. “Do you know that mortal?”

“Not yet.” Lestat didn’t believe Louis’s promise for a moment. He would be careless, and it would lead to danger. Perhaps Armand would even break his heart… But Lestat would be there to pick up the pieces when that happened. If Louis would let him.

As they reached the corner, his hand shot out to catch Louis’s elbow and he steered him around it to avoid the highway exit. He let go of him again right after. “You’re like ice under my fingers, Louis. You need blood.”

“I will not argue and say you’re wrong.” In truth, he was feeling rather famished.

Lestat scoffed in wry amusement. “That would be a first.” They passed only a few other mortals on the dark streets on their way down to the park, but each caught Lestat’s eye, and he yearned to follow them.

Once they crossed to the tree-lined path that led down to the waterfront, his pace slowed to a casual stroll so that he and Louis looked like any normal couple on a late night walk. Lestat glanced aside at him. “Will you manage on your own? Or shall we find someone to share?”

Louis couldn’t help becoming hyper-aware of his surroundings as he gave in to his vampiric nature. “I think I will manage on my own.”

Putting his hands on Louis’s shoulders from behind, Lestat stopped him on the path, looking past him to the few mortals lurking in the park both in and out of the shadows cast by the lamps on the trees. “I know you will,” he whispered close to Louis’s ear, giving him a light squeeze.

Louis blushed and at the same time found comfort in the touch. “I will be back soon enough,” he replied, although by the time he’d finished his sentence, Lestat had vanished.

Slowly, Louis meandered through the park until he ran out of path and ended up on the bench-lined walkway at the water’s edge. There, he approached a lone mortal and sat beside him, engaging in small talk enough for the man to let his guard down. It was at that moment that Louis sunk his fangs into the jugular vein. He moved a hand over the man’s mouth to muffle any screams, and from a distance, they looked like nothing more than an overly frisky couple.

Lestat had killed quickly so as not to miss a moment of of Louis’s attack. From behind one of the tall marble slabs of the WWII memorial, he watched them with the delight of an unabashed voyeur. The pleasure of the sight was mixed with an intense feeling of relief. To not only see Louis kill, but see him kill someone he’d _talked_ to was so promising Lestat could almost start singing. How desperately he wanted to drag Louis off that bench and press him into this marble wall so that there was not an inch of air between any parts of their bodies.

Somehow he managed to restrain himself valiantly. When he heard the victim’s heart stop, Lestat went over to the bench, sitting on the other side of the dead man as if all three of them were friends. He gazed out at the statue of liberty in the bay. “What a view,” he said, on the edge of a laugh.

“You’re in a good mood,” Louis said quietly, his attention focused on the statue as if he were contemplating its nature. “And I know full well that the view has nothing to do with your giddiness.”

Lestat slung an arm over the back of the bench as if he’d embrace the dead man, but instead he reached past him to brush Louis’s shoulder. “But it looks better, doesn’t it? With some blood in your veins? The colors brighter, your pulse at peace.”

Louis leaned into Lestat’s fingertips. “Yes. It is lovely.” There was no way he could lie about this. Overall, Louis appeared relaxed and relatively at peace.

A mortal appeared on the path heading toward them. Lestat gave her a gentle push with his mind to send her in the opposite direction, and then she was gone again.

“Tell me what else you have planned?” Louis asked.

Shifting his hand, Lestat took the back of the dead man’s slumped head, straightening it as if he wanted the corpse to look at the view as well. “What do you mean?”

“You always have a plan of sorts.” There was no malice in Louis’s voice. He only spoke as if he were stating facts. “I want to know what I am in for.”

“Why should I tell you?” Lestat smirked fondly. “So you can say ‘absolutely not’ again?” Besides, although he had ideas about what he’d like to do, more often than not, he followed his impulses and all plans ended up going out the window.

“Because I need to mentally prepare,” Louis retorted, although there was fondness in his tone as well.

“Mentally preparing is overrated. You’ll have more fun if you think less.”

“You are also dressed awfully nice for just a walk,” he pointed out.

“I’d just bathed a dog,” Lestat said with a dismissive shrug. “I could hardly go out in the same clothes.” It amused him, though, that Louis admitted he thought he looked nice. Awfully nice, even! Of course it was true, but Louis usually never said such things. Not aloud.

“That is so,” Louis said. “But you could have put on one of your usual get-ups.”

Could he have? Could he have, really? Lestat smirked and glanced at Louis across the dead man between them. “Before we move on to better things, as I see you are so eager to do, tell me…what made you choose our friend here?” He gave the corpse a pat on the back of the head, which made it start to slump forward, but Lestat caught it by the hair and straightened it again.

Louis’s eyes went to the man. This was a question he wasn’t prepared to answer. But the cat was already out of the bag. “I could see it in his eyes,” he eventually said, his voice quiet. “The longing for death.” It was a look he often wore himself in the latter part of his young life. He knew it well.

Lestat leaned forward as if to check the man’s eyes for what Louis described even though they were closed.

“It was for mercy,” Louis added. “Kindness, I suppose.”

Lestat couldn’t help laughing at that. “Kindness!” He slapped the corpse on the back which made it slump forward into its own lap, threatening to tumble to the ground. “Oh, you are too much.”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious again, Louis shifted his gaze to avoid Lestat’s. Muttering something under his breath, he stood up. He didn’t expect Lestat to understand anyway. “I should go.”

“Should you?” Lestat laughed again, and Louis headed up the walkway.

Plucking the wallet out of the dead man’s pocket, Lestat quickly took out the cash then tucked the wallet back in. Rising, he shifted the man to lie on the bench to look like he was sleeping, and then he caught up to Louis. “Here,” he said, offering Louis the couple hundred dollars between his fingers with a teasing smirk. “Buy yourself an extra set of bedclothes. In case further dog-related incidents offend those sensibilities of yours.”

“Don’t mock me, Lestat,” Louis warned although there was not much of a threat to it. In the past, he would have said something about the blatant robbery. But the man was dead now; he didn’t need the money. “Keep that cash. You need it more than I, on account of having no qualms treating me like your personal bank.”

“You know I’ll just lose it,” Lestat said lightly. “I’ll give it away to the first person I see who’s too beautiful to resist. Or too pathetic.” Stopping Louis in his tracks, he slid the money into Louis’s front pants pocket. “Besides, what’s mine is yours,” he added, still sounding as if he might be joking, though with the implication that what was Louis’s ought to be Lestat’s as well.

Louis’s eyes locked onto his maker’s, unable to look away with him so close even if he wanted to.

Hooking his fingertips on the edge of Louis’s pocket, Lestat tugged him a step toward him and put his other hand against Louis’s face. The fresh warmth in his skin made Lestat shiver. “Go now, then, Louis. If you should.” He sounded as if he might laugh at him again at any moment.

Louis swallowed thickly. He only moved closer to Lestat to keep his balance. At least that’s what he told himself. “Maybe I will,” he replied, although he was too enthralled for his his feet to move.

Lestat’s fingers curled against Louis’s face, and he stepped a fraction closer, his lips twisting on the edge of a laugh. “You don’t sound too sure.”

Louis’s head tilted into the touch. “And you continue to mock me.” He wanted to look away but was fully unable to. “Pray tell, what is so amusing?”

“You are, my ridiculous friend.” Lestat’s face lifted as if he meant to kiss Louis between the eyes, but he merely exhaled and withdrew before the distance could be closed. Releasing Louis, he took a step back to look at him again.

A brief flash of disappointment crossed Louis’s face before he could suppress it, and it positively made Lestat’s night. Frustrating Louis this way was one of his chief sources of amusement. The unfortunate side effect was that it usually left Lestat frustrated as well. But it was all worth it to see those fleeting expressions of desire on Louis’s features.

God help him if Louis ever decided to actually do something about his frustration. Lestat didn’t know how he would handle it.

“Killing is killing,” Lestat said with an amused smirk. “You don’t need an excuse to admit you love it.”

Louis took a step back of his own. He truly had no retort to that statement, and it chilled him to the core that Lestat was correct.

The amusement faded from Lestat’s eyes to a look that was almost sympathetic. “Ah,” he said softly, “there it is.” So Louis was finally beginning to understand it all.

“There what is?” His eyes narrowed defensively.

“The vampire I knew you could be,” he said with a faint smile, though the sympathy remained in his gaze. He put a hand on Louis’s shoulder, turning him back to the path, urging him to walk again. “Come with me to the Dead Rabbit.” The classy speakeasy stood only a couple minutes’ walk from the park. “It will be warm and loud, and everyone there will be too drunk by now to notice how pale we are.”

Louis’s self-consciousness faded, evolving into something else he could not define.

“Alright,” he relented after some consideration, only because he secretly wanted to spend more time with Lestat. “I’ll entertain your idea for one night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is more Armand and Marius!   
> Also these chapters are about to start getting a lot longer. Hope that will be all right!


	12. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand demands some new terms for his relationship with Marius.

Marius had spent the last couple nights engraving an oak table in his bed chamber. He’d begun with a Celtic knot, finding the process therapeutic, and when the work was finished, he stained and varnished the wood. Now what the alter needed were herbs. Leaving his room, he made his way into the kitchen. Opening the spice cabinet, his senses were pleasantly overtaken by the aromas. Gingerly, he started to pick up various containers.

Armand approached the kitchen with Denis at his side, smiling as the mortal filled him in on all that had happened during the day. In addition to his other duties, he had his hands full now tending to the dog while the vampires slept. Armand had offered to attempt to cook for him as he sometimes did, wanting nothing more than to perform an act of selflessness after the recent events with Lestat.

He sensed Marius’s presence before he even opened the kitchen door, but he could find no flaw in surrounding himself with another loved one.

“I mean the dog’s beautiful,” Denis babbled pleasantly, pleased to have Armand’s attention in this moment. “But where the hell did she come from?”

Marius looked up as they entered. “Good evening,” he greeted cordially, gratified to see Armand in such good spirits. Slowly, he put the spices back into the cabinet for he didn’t want to answer any questions about them nor was he in the mood to lie. “I trust all is well?”

Armand smiled gently, though his eyes betrayed the true extent of his happiness. “Better still, for your presence.” He’d never actually introduced Marius to Denis, had he? Better a week late than never. “This is Denis, my human…ah…companion.” He struggled to find the right word.

Denis had to stop himself from staring at Marius. He had gone from one vampire to four so quickly, and he was still in awe of it. While vastly different from his Armand, Marius was striking in his own right. It must have been in a vampire’s very nature to be unfathomably beautiful. Recalling what little Armand had told him about the other, he knew that he valued good manners, and so he made an effort to not stand like a gormless creep. “It’s good to meet you… Sir.”

Marius nodded. “It’s a pleasure to properly make your acquaintance as well, Denis. Please, call me Marius.” He turned to Armand, giving him a questioning look. He’d never previously thought Armand the sort to find such a companion. But he didn’t judge. “I hope I am not intruding on your evening.”

Armand would have leapt at Marius to keep him there had he not seemed so aloof in this moment. “No, not at all. Though if we are intruding upon yours, you need only say.”

Denis tried to refrain from thinking too much of the older vampire, knowing full well that his thoughts were an open book around here. He rummaged through the cupboards for a frying pan to keep himself busy.

Marius now had his full attention on the two of them. His expression held a kindness that was genuine. “No,” he answered. “I was looking for some things, but it is not urgent.”

Armand batted Denis’s hands away from the pan and bid him to sit at the kitchen table before he opened the refrigerator to take out the bacon and eggs. “Things are well with you, are they not?” he asked Marius.

There was a brief pause. “All is well now that you have decided to take care of yourself, Amadeo.”

Armand smiled softly, shaking his head as he arranged the ingredients by the stove and retrieved the bread. “It won’t happen again, Maestro.” He shot Marius a coy look.

“I trust it won’t,” he said with some finality. His gaze lingered over Armand’s form just long enough for him to notice.

Armand’s smile widened a little, a light heat dusting his cheeks. Despite how generously it had been lavished upon him the other night, he would never tire of Marius’s attention. “What is it you were trying to find? I’m sure Denis could be of assistance.” He ruffled the human’s hair fondly then chuckled as Denis leaned into the touch.

“It is not important,” Marius said. “I will go without.” He truly did not want to have this conversation now. “I will be drawing a bath, “ he added, maintaining his easy confidence as he gave Armand a look of invitation.

Armand was nothing if not surprised at his maker’s implication after Marius had given off the distinct impression he wanted to be left alone. Armand scanned his face to fully ascertain his intentions. “Perhaps you will be drawing a bath in around fifteen minutes?” he coaxed, still intent on cooking for Denis.

“Fifteen minutes and not a minute later,” Marius replied, glad to see that Armand had mastered the art of subtlety. “Until then, I will be in my room. I’ve a painting to complete.”

Fifteen minutes and an hour or so later, Armand was squeezing bathwater out of his hair with a towel as he entered Marius’s bedroom in his maker’s company. Folding the towel, he placed it outside. He was in no mood to risk displeasing Marius. He took a long look around the room; he’d not seen it since it had been properly set up. The space was kept a comfortable temperature. The furniture was made of oak, and the table Marius had carved set up under the window. In hindsight, Armand realized may have been too harsh about the choice of bed spread. It was highly unnecessary, but so completely Marius that he could not help but feel fond of it.

Marius approached it and drew back the comforter before moving the decorative pillows to the chaise near the foot of the bed. “Make yourself comfortable, caro mío.” His own hair was neatly tied up to avoid any dripping.

“Thank you, Maestro.” Armand’s voice was soft as he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling relaxed by Marius’s soothing tone.

Marius gently pulled him into an embrace. He placed soft, affectionate kisses on his cheek. “Tell me what plagues your mind,” he whispered.

Armand sighed as the ministrations brought some much needed color to his complexion. Three centuries of having been his fledgling, and Armand was still as a mortal boy with his first love when near him. “You, you wretched Adonis.” He laughed quietly.

“Am I that wretched for taking you into my arms and showing you the love you most aptly deserve?” He pushed a strand of auburn hair behind Armand’s ear.

Armand leaned into the touch. “I meant nothing by it. If anyone in this house is wretched, it is surely me.” Casting his gaze downward, he thought on the inquiry. “It will resolve itself, this feeling I’m having.”

“Though you are not wrong, it does help to speak of your woes. You know my lips are sealed and my heart is open to you”

He sighed, placing a hand on Marius’s chest and reveling in the beat of his powerful heart. “You, the perfect thing, always so open of heart. You are surely beyond my reach.” There was no point in lying. Though they lacked a connection of thoughts as fledgling and maker, Marius could always read him. He kept his gaze downward, opening his heart and mind completely. “Everyone here is.”

“I should smack you for such a statement,” he chastised. But instead, he covered Armand’s hand gently with his own. “You think less of yourself? That is the human condition. It is easiest to see flaws within yourself. But you must not be so strict.” He paused to place a kiss upon Armand’s forehead. “You know that if you do wrong, I will surely tell you.”

“I have a way about me that makes people think I am more virtuous than I am, Marius. I hate that even you are blind to it.” He pressed his hand harder against his chest before linking it with his instead. “It seems I need not even open my mouth to manipulate, though it’s never my intention…” Armand was weary of feeling this way, though Marius’s kiss did lighten his mood somewhat.

“In this case, let the democracy decide,” he said. “The general opinion is that you are not a monster. That is the truth.” He spoke with finality.

“Either way,” Armand said, unconvinced, “I’d ask you not to smack me.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips, and Marius gently tapped the other’s behind. “It is not your place to tell me what to do.”

He locked eyes with his master. “If that is your definition of a smack, I’d say you were in need of a telling.”

“That was merely a warning.”

“I recall a time when I would have trembled at your warnings,” Armand said almost wistfully, a trace of a smile in his eyes as he thought on what he’d confessed.

“Maybe I am going soft in my old age,” Marius postulated facetiously.

“Anyway, _your_ general opinion is I am not monster,” he muttered. “You’ve not spoken to Lestat the last few days?” And if he knew Lestat, he wouldn’t have hesitated to air his grievances with Armand to Louis as well. Perhaps even the dog.

Marius furrowed his brow. “No, I have not had the chance to speak with him at any length. I know he is eager to have a conversation, however.”

“Don’t let him poison you against me.”

Marius made a dismissive gesture.

“I mean it, Marius,” Armand murmured, all remnants of jest gone from his eyes as he looked straight at him. “Lestat opens his mouth, and people follow him. Christ only knows what he could say. I won’t lose you again.” It was almost a threat. He could not quell his sense of worthlessness in wake of the events with Lestat.

“I do not doubt that.” Marius met his gaze with one equally as somber. “But I chose you. My blood runs through your veins. We have a connection that Lestat and I will never share.”

“Yes, but you can know each other’s thoughts. A privilege that you and I will never have. Another means for him to connect with you. Would you have chosen him over me if he were there, with me, in that time?” Armand’s voice was cross, though the anger was not directed towards Marius. He could not shake off the paranoia that Lestat could and would steal his maker from him. “You are not soft in your old age, you are hard as ever. Just promise me you will remain so when it matters the most.”

“Amadeo!” Marius scolded firmly. His eyes narrowed and it was clear he would not have any of this sort of talk. “Do you doubt out bond?” he asked, speaking as a school master would to a troublesome pupil. “To listen to the thoughts of another does not constitute a bond. I can hear the thoughts of any mortal or vampire. Except you. You’re special. You’re mine.” He exhaled audibly. “You have my word.”

Armand visibly relaxed, if only a little. The possessiveness in Marius’s tone may have unnerved another, someone who did not think and feel the way Armand did. But to him, it was validation. “But you would not have chosen him over me? If presented with us both?” He knew should leave it well enough alone, but he needed an answer to this now. “I do not doubt our bond…not mine to you. But I also do not doubt Lestat’s charm and inexplicable ability to get what he wants.”

“Amadeo,” Marius warned. “I owe no explanations.” He drew him closer. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Anger jolted within Armand in a way he would not have been able to control even if he wanted to. His eyes flashed with it. “You would choose him!” he hissed, pulling out of his maker’s arms with force. “How can you say I’ve nothing to worry about when you are so secretive? Your heart is not open to me! It never was!” He glared down at Marius, his movements as frantic as his thoughts. “And he wants these private chats with you. To what end? To discuss all these secrets that you have never seen fit to tell me but probably told him in the space of a night! You talk of an unbreakable bond, Marius, something special that we have. But you trust the one who would break every rule and every heart, and steal from the pocket of his fledgling each night over me!”

Marius felt the rage boiling inside him. He raised his hand and smacked Armand firmly across the cheek.

The force of the blow staggered Armand, though he retained his footing by the skin of his teeth to keep his dignity.

“I will not stand for this insolence,” Marius said. “Believe what you will, but you are objectively incorrect in these beliefs.”

Armand glared up at him venomously, not moving to touch his cheek or even acknowledge the pain. “Hit me. Whip me. Do all those things you used to do,” he spat in a low voice. “But never treat me like an equal. Never that. Heaven forbid. You answer my question, Marius. Look me in the eye and answer it.”

Marius’s eyes filled with their own venom. “The fact that you do not know the answer makes me a failure of a teacher,” he said with an eerie calm. “I shall gather my things and think about my failure.” With that, he stood gracefully to go.

The words jolted Armand into a blind panic. Lestat had threatened to leave, and now this. He would be alone as soon as not. Though still furious that Marius could not humor him, could not see that he needed this, and could not see him as an equal, Armand could not allow him to leave.

He stood between his maker and the door—perhaps on instinct, he knew it was a futile attempt. “You will not leave. You cannot leave!” It was the only argument he had, and it was weak. “A moment ago, I was not a monster. Then tell me why everyone leaves!” His eyes clouded with so much more than anger now. “You cannot go. Not again.”

Marius’s heart trembled. He stayed frozen in his spot, remaining silent for what felt like an eternity but was only a moment. “Amadeo, I have failed you. Of course I would choose you every time. And you refuse to believe me. I did not answer you because it did not have to be said. Perhaps I was wrong in that assumption.”

Armand’s body ached with palpable relief. He folded his arms almost as if to hold himself, and he looked anywhere but at his maker. “I just needed to hear it. It may have been obvious to you, but I needed to hear you say it.” He would not weep this time, though he was remarkably close to it. “Keep your secrets from me. Tell Lestat and the rest of vampire kind if you must. Just…don’t go.”

“What secrets?” Marius’s expression softened.

“Where you go when you are away,” he said quietly. “What you used to do in Venice and keep from me. I know of them and they were a point of contention for us then. I just worry that…” He stopped, shaking his head. He did not need to divulge his own insecurities any longer.

“I do not know what Lestat wants to discuss, but I assure you there is no conspiracy.” Marius spoke warmly, the guilt audible in his voice. “I should not have lost my temper.”

Armand wanted to reach out, aching for his maker’s touch, though he was wary of crossing a line. “You needn’t always be my teacher. Can you not sometimes be mine, and I yours, and that would be the end of it? I am not a child of your palazzo anymore, and I needn’t always be learning something from you.”

Marius sighed. It was not out of exasperation but rather a mix of guilt and something he couldn’t identify. “Amadeo…” He let the name linger. His fledgling was not wrong. “I will do my best to keep it so,” he conceded. “But this will require you to be patient with me.”

Armand looked up in surprise, locking eyes with his maker for the first time since he was hit. He had not expected such an easy admittance or agreement. And the way Marius said his old name, with such reverence… He smiled very faintly, but retained an edge to his countenance, still not happy about having been struck. “I have an eternity to wait for you, you blessed me with that.”

Though he would agree to treat Armand as an equal, Marius could not find it in himself to apologize for hitting him. This was for reasons that he could not pinpoint himself. “Come, sit with me.”

Armand looked at him almost suspiciously, but to retain the peace, he did as he suggested. “You won’t leave?” he asked carefully, half fearful Marius might take his things and not come back for three hundred years again.

Marius shook his head. “No, caro mio,” he soothed. “I will stay by your side as long as time allows.” He pulled Armand close.

This was a lie. Armand could not help but feel that. He knew Marius’s penchant for flitting about; even dear Bianca had fallen victim to it. Still, Armand hadn’t the heart to contest the point. He sank into his maker’s arms, grateful for the touch even as he hung on to a shred of resentment that he could not shake. “It’s only that…Lestat is speaking of moving. If you went too… To hell with Lestat, if you went at all… I’ve had enough of solitude.”

“Lestat is speaking of moving?” he asked as he stroked Armand’s cheek affectionately. “When did that happen?” He was grateful to get the topic off himself. “I know the two of you have different points of view. But I thought this arrangement was working.”

Armand could not help but laugh. “Not once since he’s arrived has it shown any semblance of functioning.” He spoke quietly, regretting this indisputable fact. He leaned deeper into his maker’s touch, taking what he could get as he lifted his eyes to Marius’s, slowly, deliberately, as if testing his own charms in lieu of feeling lesser against Lestat. “The other night, in the bathroom. He seemed to tease me with the idea. Though he’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Marius thought about this. In his mind, everything seemed fine. But then again, fine could mean everything from copacetic to relative disaster. He continued caress his fledgling’s cheek. “Maybe he was trying to get a rise out of you. He seems to be fond of that sort of thing, no?”

Armand sighed at the gentleness of Marius’s touch. There was truly nothing he wanted more at this moment than to fall into it, to find himself at his mercy and forget himself. But then he realized what Marius was attempting to do; he meant to take Armand’s mind from the assault on his face, to apologize without truly apologizing. Armand’s cheek still hurt, though perhaps due to emotional pain over physical. Schooling himself against the touch, and his own childish desires, he took Marius’s hand away and gave him as stern a look as he could muster. He’d never denied Marius’s touch before. Not even when he’d been thrown to the bed and brutally whipped as a mortal boy. What sort of precedent would he be setting if he forgave immediately?

However, he said nothing about it aloud, only answered the question about Lestat. “That is the truth. The dog did little to placate his resentment.” He sighed. “There is still so much that hasn’t been said between us. He knows that I want him to stay.”

Marius clasped his hands together in his lap to restrain himself from scolding his fledgling for the rejection. “Do you want advice or just an ear?” he inquired, trying to keep from acting as a teacher in the moment.

Armand’s regret was almost instantaneous. It felt unnatural and empty to not have Marius’s hands upon him, as free he’d always been with his affections when the mood suited him. He found himself in two minds, the trouble of attempting to set himself as an equal against Marius when the need to be claimed by him was consuming him more than talk of Lestat. Perhaps he was not meant to be on his level. “Whichever you would deign to give me,” he answered. “I fear honesty with him may be the best approach.”

“You are growing wise, my dear Amadeo,” he praised. “I would have advised honesty myself. His personality requires him to receive direct statements. Otherwise there will be too much room for interpretation.”

“I suspect if there were no room for interpretation, he’d still carve some out.”

“Yes. That is in his nature. His very essence of being.”

Armand paused for thought. He would make another attempt with Lestat tomorrow night. For now, he wanted him banished from his brain and to think only of Marius. “You said you were searching for something in the kitchen. Tell me about it…if you would.”

Marius hesitated. “I will oblige, but there are a lot of questions you will have after I do,” he said as he gathered his thoughts in attempt discern the best way to breach this very personal subject.

Poring over Marius’s expression, Armand tried to gauge his thoughts. “I’ve never not had questions about your inner workings. Though your openness is both unexpected and appreciated.”

Marius longed to stall this conversation further, but knew he could not hold it off for long. “I don’t suppose I told you of my mortal life,” he said. “That is where my actions are rooted.”

Armand watched him carefully, noting his wariness. “Maestro, please, do not feel obligated to tell me or show me anything.” He found himself using the old title out of habit and realized he might be sending mixed signals. He had only perhaps hoped to know Marius better. He had always been so guarded. Did anyone truly know him?

“You asked and I will allow it. Of course, it won’t be everything. But it will be enough to answer your question as truthfully as I know how.”

Armand nodded and sat patiently, hands clasped. It wouldn’t be everything. It never was. Armand was doomed to only gather any untainted love he could from those who would never fully open up to him in return. “Then I will await your generous attempts.”

Marius nodded in appreciation. “In my mortal life, I was the son of a patrician. But I was…well…an illegitimate child.” He had never told anyone this. He was too proud to admit it. “My mother was a slave from Celtic region of Gaul.”

Despite the resentment Armand still felt in his heart towards Marius tonight, his resolve softened slightly. He could see that it took a lot of courage to admit this. His fingers itched to reach and touch Marius’s face, an offer of comfort. But he resisted. “There is no shame in that. Did she live in your household?”

“She did, but I was not permitted to acknowledge her. The story my father peddled was that my mother was a woman of status who died in childbirth.” He exhaled. The words felt foreign on his lips. For a second, he almost had forgotten where he was going with this tale. “But as a child, I would watch her and the other slaves, intrigued by their magicks. I still hold the traditions, studying what I could of it over the years. For the rituals, I require herbs. So that is what I was doing in the kitchen.”

Armand could understand this pain. His own mother whilst present may as well have not been, with no affection to divide between seven children. The term _magicks_ sent an almost palpable unease through him, an echo of a sentiment he would have felt in mortality, but that held little sway over him now. “It was your way of connecting to her, then?” he asked quietly, without judgment.

“I suppose.” Marius was not fully sure of his sentiment. Connection was definitely part of it. While the other part allowed him to come to terms with being kidnapped by druids and take ownership of his identity again.

“What herbs?” Armand could sense Marius ruminating on more than he was saying again, and he did not want this moment to end. He set aside his own misunderstandings, prejudices against the occult and sighed. “I can help you get them, unless you want to be alone in this.”

“Sage, patchouli, and cinnamon,” he answered without skipping a beat. He decided he would share this with Armand. To let him into this portion of his life. “I could use your help.” He chose these words carefully.

Armand smiled brightly, relieved. Though he still struggled to reconcile his feelings of adoration and inferiority (and potential wishes to be made inferior), Marius was not shunning him, and it was a start. He took both of Marius’s hands, moving to stand before him. “We can get them anywhere.”

“Are you asking or telling me?” The question was genuine but the tone he used was much like that of a teacher, unable to fully break his old habits.

Armand’s smile fell. In his excitement he’d reached out to Marius physically, the action feeling second nature to him. He released his hands. “Informing you.”

Marius’s expression became apologetic. “I appreciate you letting me know,” he said, correcting himself. “Could you show me?”

“You can order them on the devil’s laptop or walk into a store and purchase them manually.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he thought back to Marius’s troubles with the computer. But his maker’s contrite look still made him smile softly, and Armand properly reached out now. He hooked a finger under Marius’s chin and lifted his face to meet his gaze, a daring attempt at establishing himself. He pressed a kiss to his forehead and fell into his eyes. “Thank you, truly.”

“You deserve it, caro mio,” he soothed. “So I pick up the device and ask it to get me what I need?” he inquired. “How will it know where to go to retrieve such things?”

Armand laughed openly, relishing in the display of vulnerability. “Let me show you.” He held out his hand again, an invitation for Marius to accompany him to his room.

Marius took it, holding back his instinct to scold Armand for laughing at him. “All right,” he relented. “Lead the way.”

Armand squeezed his maker’s fingers in apology. “You are free to scold me for that,” he murmured as they approached his room. The last thing he wanted to do was mock Marius for his openness.

“Thank you,” he said. “But I will allow it. Consider it a free pass.” Upon entering the room, he sat on the edge of Armand’s bed. “So tell me how to ask that infernal machine to bring me what we need.” He used the word _we_ purposefully; he considered Armand part of this now.

“Exactly the same as when you ordered the bed. Little basket and all.” Although Armand did not speak slowly, he chose his words for as straightforward an explanation as possible. He set up his laptop and transferred it to Marius, sitting beside him to help.

Marius handled the machine gingerly. “All right… Where does one find this little basket then?” Slowly, he started to type into the search engine, _Please deliver to me the following herbs_ _…_

Armand almost bit his lip hard enough to bleed to keep from laughing. He dared not reverse any progress they’d made. “Look for a grocery store first,” he breathed, typing one in for his maker. “And you needn’t be so polite. Just type the name of the herb.”


	13. Certain Contexts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand attempts once more to reconcile with Lestat, but this time he says the magic words.

Things needed to be said; Armand’s peace of mind depended upon it. Although he was determined to find Lestat anywhere the next night, he felt relieved to come across him in the living room as opposed to his bedroom—he was not ready to face him where it had all started.

Lestat lounged with the dog on one of the plush sofas, his attention fixed on his iPhone as he swiped at it methodically. Without invitation, Armand sat on the other sofa, which was now the furthest seat away from Lestat’s instead of directly opposite as it used to be. He looked around at the new positions of all his furniture. “You’ve an eye for interior design,” he said frankly. “I do prefer this lay out.”

The dog shifted under Lestat’s legs at the sound and Lestat looked up from his phone game. “Shh,” he said to her, reaching down to rub her head. “It’s just Armand. He won’t bite. Not you, anyway.” His eyes shot to Armand then, unable to conceal the accusation in them. But when he replied to the compliment, his tone seemed relaxed. “Oh, good,” he said. “I’d hate for us to have a row over furniture arrangement of all things.” His gaze returned to his game and he swiped the screen. “I’ll do your room too, if you like.”

Armand eyed the dog warily, though he was pleasantly surprised by Lestat’s offer. He couldn’t help but smile, and though it was subtle, it dusted his face with a genuine happiness. Or relief. Perhaps both. The expression soon fell as his worries returned. “Would that be before you left? If you are set on it.” He made himself more comfortable on the sofa, though the tension was evident within him as he breached the topic that brought him there.

It took Lestat a long moment to answer, as if his phone were simply too distracting. In reality, he was thinking about the question, but his mind remained completely closed to Armand. “As if I’d never visit,” he said eventually, without looking up. “But then again, perhaps I wouldn’t,” he added, realizing it was a valid possibility, given everything.

Armand made little attempt to conceal his emotional reaction to this. He would need to be open to Lestat if he would make amends. In the same breath, though it pained him, he left his own mind completely open. “Perhaps if Marius remained, you would,” he mused, understanding Lestat’s appreciation for his maker. “Though he has little inclination to stay anywhere for any length of time,” he added, bitterness lacing his voice.

Although Lestat continued to stare at his iPhone, he wasn’t seeing the screen at all anymore. He couldn’t help being affected by the openness of Armand’s mind even as he remained paranoid it was part of some trick. Armand wasn’t wrong about Marius’s allure, though. Lestat certainty did want to stay near his ancient friend. They had so many conversations left to have. But he was confused why Armand would use his maker as a lure. What was his goal? Control? It made Lestat want to run as far as possible.

“Though it means nothing to you,” Armand said, “I’d ask you to stay.”

Lestat blinked, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. “And why is that?”

Armand thought on this for a moment. He regretted having his mind so open, that thoughts of Marius threatening to leave passed through it for Lestat to hear. “As horrid as I can be—have been, I enjoy you and your presence. I invited you to live here for a reason and would very much like to keep you here.” He spoke as if all this was obvious. The fact that the threat of total loneliness reared its ugly head did not need addressing. He had already said it without words.

One of Lestat’s eyebrows arched up his forehead, and he pressed the button to darken his phone, tossing it aside on the couch. “Is that so?” He didn’t sound entirely sarcastic, but he clearly did not fully believe Armand either. Even if what Armand said was true, Lestat would always be suspicious deeper hidden motivations were at play as well.

He swung his legs off the dog and put his feet on the floor to face Armand more directly. She whimpered, missing him, but he put a hand on her head as he studied Armand across the room. “You want to be in charge here, don’t you?” he mused. “Are you missing the theatre? You want this to be another coven, and you its leader.”

Armand was not sure how to answer. For certain, he did not want anything reminiscent of a dank, dusty, miserable coven again. Even in the theatre, the vampires were mostly insufferable. “I cannot deny wanting to be in control of my own house,” he admitted. “But I also cannot pretend to have any power over you, or Marius, or Louis. So no, that is not what I want.”

A faint smirk touched Lestat’s lips at how true that statement was. It would be impossible for Armand to control him even if Lestat wanted to let him. Just thinking of the hypothetical attempt made him want to laugh.

Standing, he crossed to Armand’s couch and sat on it sideways to face him, as if looking at him more closely would help make up his mind. “And what if I want control?” he said, his smirk lingering, though whether he was truly joking or not was impossible to tell. “What if I want to be in charge of our little coven? What then, Armand?”

Armand gazed at him, steeling against his bodily reaction to the unexpected closeness. Here was Lestat at his most deadly, and he knew it. “And what would you do with this control?” he asked almost coyly, voice low as he played along. “If I like your intentions enough, I may relinquish my sliver of control completely.”

Lestat laughed aloud this time, shaking his head. He truly was amused, even if his wariness of Armand had not decreased in the slightest. “I am sure you would,” he said suggestively, as if he knew something about his own intentions that would be irresistible. “But I don’t want to control you, Armand. Nor lord anything over you,” he added, referencing Armand’s accusation from the night he violated his mind. “No fun in such nonsense, after all.” Lestat’s eyes swept over the other vampire’s cherubic face, then he sighed deeply. “I wish I could trust you.”

Armand sighed gently in response, not taking his eyes from Lestat’s. He honestly could not blame him. “And I wish that I knew your intentions. I wish that I did not feel lesser than you.” He admitted this, though he hated to. He knew that Lestat would relish this tidbit of information. But he had intended on openness and honesty. As a reward for his efforts, he closed off his thoughts to Lestat now. “I cannot trust myself.”

Lestat’s expression darkened, his eyes growing harder, and he closed himself off further as well. “If you feel lesser, it’s by no fault of mine,” he said quietly. Sensing the change of mood, Cordelia hopped off the other couch and came over to nose at Lestat’s thigh, but he ignored her for the moment. “That’s never been how I wanted to you feel.”

Inwardly, Armand lamented the joy that was lost from Lestat’s eyes. He wanted it back, though he did not know how to go about it. It was the smallest semblance of friendship they’d shared in a while, and he found himself reluctant to let go of it. “And I do not blame you for it,” he said. “I know that it was never your intention.” He debated for a moment, and then opened his mind again. Just for this night, he would be unreserved. And every night thereafter, he would protect himself and his thoughts.

Lestat’s brows knit. The coming and going in such quick succession of the powerful presence of Armand’s mind had an almost dizzying effect on him. He tried to steel himself against it, but his hold on his own mind loosened. Well, he had nothing to hide at the moment, so it was of little concern. He could sense the temporary nature of Armand’s openness, though, which confused him more than anything…until Armand spoke again.

“But can you not see it?” he said. “You are younger than me by far, but stronger than me by farther. You have this charm about you. I’ve never seen you think twice about your actions, and I’ve never known someone to resent you. I mean truly resent you.”

“Everyone’s resented me all my life,” Lestat said, putting a hand down on Cordelia to get her to settle on the floor beside the couch. His brothers, his father, the villagers, Nikki, Nikki’s father, the list went on. Perhaps none resented him as bitterly as Armand, but still… And then of course, there was Louis, fiery carnage and all. “If you’ve fancied yourself alone in your resentment, I hate to break it to you, but you’re hardly the first.” Not that Lestat could help any of it. He was who he was, and he shrugged.

“I resent many things _about_ you, Lestat.” He could list them. His incorrigible charm. Mostly his seeming immunity to Armand’s own legendary powers of seduction. The fact that Lestat would not, could not, ever love him. As he ruminated on this, his eyes never left Lestat’s. “But not _you_. Never. And if there have been people who have really resented you, then they were lying to themselves.” It felt like a knife to the gut to be so glaringly open.

Lestat failed to see the difference. And if there was one, it hardly mattered. Armand’s resentment had almost cost him his life on more than one occasion. And though such barbarousness was surely behind them now that Armand had civilized himself, Lestat still knew he was playing with fire by being anywhere near the other vampire.

But that was exactly it, wasn’t it?

The danger was too intoxicating to resist, and in his heart, Lestat knew he wouldn’t be moving out. Not anytime soon.

“Ah, but is that why you’d like me to stay?” he asked thoughtfully, leaning closer as if to challenge Armand’s staring, make him back away. “You need someone to resent ‘things about’ otherwise you’ve no one to resent but yourself?”

Although Armand did retreat slightly, he did not relent in his gaze, and he laughed almost hollowly. “While there is a scary accuracy to that, I’ve resented myself far more than anyone else these past few days.” He voice remained quiet. “No, I said it already, and it is as simple as that. I want you to stay because as every other vampire that has come to know you, I find you a joy to be around. And if that means inviting you to play coven master, or rearrange all of the rooms, then that seems like a small price to pay. That is my truth. I believe the modern saying is something to the effect of…like it or lump it.”

Some of the humor began to return to Lestat’s eyes. “So then… you’re desperate.” He nodded with mock thoughtfulness.

“Oh, so desperate. Desperate enough to fall to my knees and ask you to stay. Desperate enough to fly to Paris this instant and scream your name from the Notre Dame.” Armand almost rolled his eyes, even though there was a truth to it that he could not contest. He was glad to see Lestat relax again, if only a little.

Despite the obvious sarcasm, Armand’s words fell on gratified ears. Lestat couldn’t help seeing the irony in the fact that Armand had been resentful last week when Lestat had invited him out as a second choice now when Armand admitted he only wanted Lestat around in spite of his resentment. What an odd pair they made.

“What is your verdict?” Armand asked quietly. “You’ve not given one.”

“I’ll stay as long as I feel like staying,” he said ambiguously. He did believe Armand had no intention of attacking him mentally or physically again, at least for the time being. But Lestat wouldn’t be allowing himself to fall into a state of foolishness to give him the chance to do it either. He put his fingertips under Armand’s chin, lifting his face to see him better, as if he could find the answers there to their paranoid stalemate.

Armand allowed the touch, borderline enjoyed it even, and he kept his eyes openly on Lestat, assuring him without words that he had nothing to hide. “You admit it, at least,” he said with a small smile, casting his mind back to Marius’s soiled promises to stay by his side.

Lestat frowned faintly, and he brushed his thumb across Armand’s lips as if testing to see if his smile were real or illusion. “What I mean,” he took a breath, “is I’ll not stay because you wish me to. But because I wish to. And only that.”

If he were not so schooled in the ways of seduction, Armand would have lost himself to that touch. He very nearly trembled against it. “I can appreciate your transparency. If that is truly what it is.” He would not probe Lestat’s mind for that answer.

Lestat continued to stare down at Armand’s wide, dark eyes, as if waiting for something to happen, some proof to show that everything was a deception. But when nothing did, he let his hand fall back to his lap. “When have you ever had any reason to doubt anything I’ve ever said or done?”

“When have I ever had reason to doubt anything anyone has said?” he asked casually, finally unlocking eyes with Lestat. “As everyone has resented you, so I was raised around untrustworthy, unpredictable beasts. And when one figure came along unlike the rest, he gave me the blessing of immortality and then abandoned me for the next three centuries. Though admittedly, the initial separation was not his bidding. I have never learned to trust. It is a concept I struggle with immensely.”

Shifting comfortably against the back of the couch, Lestat put his elbow on top to rest his chin in his hand as he studied Armand. “Are you afraid of me, then?”

Having to be truthful about everything this night was taking and emotional toll the likes of which Armand had not anticipated, though he was well past the point of hiding anything. “I am afraid of two things. That I will come to care for you more than I do already and then drive you away. And I am afraid that you will enrapture Marius and pull him away from me. Because I think that he has told you things that he never trusted me with, and made a point not to. And now that you know this, I don’t doubt that you will at least taunt me with the idea.”

Lestat had honestly expected Armand to vehemently deny any fear, whether it was true or not, and his eyes widened at the candor that issued instead. More so about the second thing than the first. And Armand was absolutely right about the last bit. Taunts began to bubble into Lestat’s brain immediately, but he refrained and focused on the heart of the subject instead. “Why should I need to pull Marius anywhere?” he asked. “We’re both right here.” And as if Marius’s attention could only be in one place at a time anyway. Armand’s fear seemed utterly illogical to Lestat, though he tried to understand where it might even come from. “Do you fear I’ll whisper to him of your evil deeds and make him hate you? Simply to be cruel?”

“He knows of those deeds. He does not judge me for them, or at least he makes out that he doesn’t. And that’s precisely why I need him. Amongst other reasons. He is all I have.” Armand spoke candidly. Lestat was like him, or could be. At least in terms of potential spitefulness. Though Lestat’s point that Marius need not go anywhere at all did something to put things into perspective. “Since we are practicing honesty here, has he told you those things?” He met Lestat’s eyes again, unsure of whether or not he wanted the answer.

“He hasn’t said anything to me at all about your evil deeds.” Lestat smiled suggestively to cover up the fact that he was deliberately misunderstanding the question. He wasn’t at liberty to be honest with Armand about Marius’s secrets even if he wanted to. His promises to Marius were something he held sacred. Though Lestat had been meaning to bring all that up with him. He needed to speak to Marius alone soon, when neither Louis nor Armand could possibly overhear their conversation. Tomorrow night. He’d make it finally happen tomorrow.

The reply did nothing to quell Armand’s anxieties on the topic. He had no right to Marius’s secrets, no-one did. But if he had told Lestat over him, Armand did not know how he might cope with the pain.

Lestat’s hand slipped out from under his chin to fall onto Armand’s thigh as if to make him pay closer attention to his words. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he said coaxingly. “I’m not here to punish you.”

He sighed gently, tentatively linking hands with Lestat. “You’ll not even send me to the top of the Notre Dame to scream your name?” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

Lestat’s gaze fell to their hands, something about Armand’s weak smile unsettling him. “Would take you too long to get there and back,” he murmured. “How about the Empire State Building instead?”

“You’re not too high maintenance,” Armand said with a twinge of sarcasm. “I told you, I am not afraid of you. I’m afraid of how powerful you can be—in more ways than just physical.”

Lestat rolled his eyes. Physical power was all he could claim. Any other power Armand imagined was just that—imagination. And Armand’s fears over such a thing were entirely in his own power to manage. It was rather tedious that Armand would hold them against Lestat at all.

He turned Armand’s hand over, brushing his thumb over the delicate bones of the small wrist as if contemplating what strength they might truly contain. “What’s the worst that could happen, really?” He lifted his eyes to meet Armand’s again, a mischievous smile teasing the corner of his lips.

Armand returned it with his own, a smile that reached his whole face this time and seemed to come from within. “I think you knew the answer to that when you threatened to leave,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving Lestat’s. “We’re bad for each other, you and I. We will always find some trouble to cause one another.”

Those words sparked something in Lestat’s eyes, and his grip on Armand’s wrist tightened. He put his other hand against Armand’s chest and pushed him gently into the couch, leaning over him. “Oh, yes. We’re absolutely terrible for each other, aren’t we?”

Armand looked up at him with wide eyes, stunned by the change in demeanor. He knew if he wanted to get away, he could. His heart pounded in his chest even though he knew that this was a damnable tease that would last half a minute, if that. Still, he would take it if presented to him. “Perhaps only a little.” He swallowed dryly.

Leaning further over Armand, Lestat’s hair fell forward against his cheeks, and he pressed him all the way into the cushions. He pulled Armand’s wrist over his head, pinning it there lightly. “Oh? Well that’s a pity.”

Armand sighed; the knowledge that this moment would come to an end as soon as it had started inhibited his enjoyment of it. “Perhaps…only in certain contexts.” He very nearly stammered over his words as Lestat’s hand flexed upon his wrist. He could feel his own pulse jump, and he hated his traitorous body for it.

The fluttering in Armand’s veins against Lestat’s fingers made them tingle. He released his wrist and put his hand around Armand’s throat instead, gripping it just tightly enough to feel his pulse there while keeping him pinned at the same time. “Hmm…” Lestat’s head tilted as he regarded him. “And what contexts might those be?”

Heat rose to Armand’s cheeks despite himself. Anyone else…if anyone else did this to him, he would be able to school himself against it. Not Lestat. “O-ones remarkably similar to…to this…” He tried to clear his throat, feeling it twitch against Lestat’s palm.

Lestat’s head cocked a touch further as if he couldn’t imagine what Armand was possibly talking about. The warmth from Armand’s face positively radiated against his own, and the sensation made him draw closer. His fingers tightened just a fraction around Armand’s throat, and his other hand curled into the fabric on his chest, pressing down on him. “Yes, this is particularly terrible, isn’t it?”

“No, you devil,” Armand breathed. He wanted nothing more than to close the minuscule distance between their faces, but he feared any move might offset Lestat’s mood. Armand was at his mercy. “If these circumstances were not so terrible, what would you plan to do with me?”

 _I never know what to do with you_ , Lestat said telepathically, forgetting to speak aloud as he grew so distracted with how Armand’s pulse beat under his fingers, his eyes growing glazed.

“I could give you some ideas, though I doubt you’d need much encouragement.” Armand’s attempt at humor faltered at the look in Lestat’s eyes. His heart hammered in his chest now. He wasn’t sure that Lestat had ever looked at him like this, but he knew he did not want it to stop.

Lestat smiled at the spoken words, though the expression was almost one of regret or sorrow. Encouragement, indeed… Armand’s thoughts, on the other hand, made him react with a pleased shudder, and he finally shifted his hand from his throat to tuck it under the back of his neck instead. Utterly incapable of keeping his thoughts blocked anymore, Lestat didn’t bother to try, letting himself be as open as Armand was. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to _be_.

The moment he was free to move, Armand bridged the small gap and drew Lestat into a kiss—a tentative, chaste one. One that a mortal would give. Still afraid Lestat might come to his senses any moment and draw back, Armand did not want to make any drastic moves.

Lestat hadn’t felt the silken feeling of another’s vampires lips on his own since Armand had kissed him fifteen years ago in Paris. It was so different from the way it felt kissing mortals that his own lips parted in an inaudible gasp and his eyes closed.

Opening his legs to Lestat, Armand removed their obstacle as an invitation. _Is this what you want?_

Lestat’s knee shifted between Armand’s, and his hand on his chest twisted the fabric of his clothes. Turning his face, he slid it along Armand’s, their cheeks like satin against each other, until it was buried in his thick auburn hair. His lips hovered at Armand’s ear, as if he might whisper something to him. But there was no need when their minds were so open to each other this way. Even without thinking coherent words, they could understand each other. Armand almost nodded with that understanding, Lestat’s breath against his ear sending shivers down his spine. He brought his hand to Lestat’s hair, combing through it before pulling him against him with the other arm.

A warmth spread from Lestat’s mind then that was infused with the pure sense of _forgiveness_. He’d neither planned it or expected it—it simply overtook him, and he let Armand have every bit of it.

Armand sighed with relief, ecstasy, as the warmth reached his own mind, so euphoric was he in the knowledge that Lestat could forgive him, did care for him, did want him. He wrapped his legs around Lestat’s waist to fasten him there, holding him in the moment with every part he could.

Sinking against him, Lestat cherished the embrace. _Don’t close yourself off to me again_ , his mind entreated. The particular sense of connection that they shared was like nothing he had or could experience with any other vampire, and he felt wonderfully lost in it.

 _Then do not leave me,_ Armand returned. It was not a condition, it was a beg, a confirmation that he needed Lestat with the same intensity. He could remain quite peacefully in this manner for the rest of the night, carding his fingers through Lestat’s hair reverently…were he not unsettled by the dog staring at them from inches away. “Though if you intend on staying here with me, I would ask you to turn away your pet.”

A low chuckle escaped Lestat and he looked past Armand’s hair over the edge of the couch. Cordelia stood close enough to lick his face if she decided to. “ _Our_ pet, Armand,” he said with mock chiding.

It took Lestat a moment to find enough mental focus to push her to go to the kitchen, and she resisted at first. He telepathically pushed her again, and she trotted off. Armand looked on in surprise, having not expected such dedication from Lestat.

He shifted up enough to look down at Armand’s face again, though he couldn’t go far with the way his legs clamped him there. “Terrible,” he whispered fondly and he brushed his thumb along Armand’s jaw.

He was quickly distracted from the dog’s retreat by Lestat’s ministrations, the feather light touches, the tone in his voice. As he met his eyes, he wondered if Lestat knew precisely how to seduce him because he was good at understanding people, or if on some level they were meant for one another, and were good together, and were destined to be able to work each other’s bodies like clockwork.

 _Could be_ , Lestat mused.

Armand’s heart swelled. He wouldn’t have managed to calm it even if he wished to. He let these thoughts flow from him, looking up at Lestat with a titillating hint of guilt. “Would you like me to let you go?” he asked sweetly.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the look on Armand’s perpetually innocent features, not believing he felt any sense of guilt for a second, but hardly minding. “Yes,” he said, lying, which he knew Armand would be able to tell easily from his mind’s entirely opposite reaction. Words spoken aloud could be so meaningless, after all. The truth remained within.

 _You’ll have to fight me off then_. He smiled warmly, eyes never leaving Lestat’s.

An indulgent smirk lifted Lestat’s cheeks as he thought how Armand had better be careful. Lestat loved a good fight, and such a challenge might be enough to spark one. He moved his hands to the sides of Armand’s face, his fingers sliding into the hair at his temples. _You can_ _’t cling to me forever._

Sighing into the touch, Armand gazed into Lestat’s eyes with reverence and need. Reluctantly, he unhooked his legs. “I wonder what that fight would entail?” he mused coyly. _Would you fight me off, or would you fight for more?_

 _Yes,_ Lestat answered to both options at once, which was the truth this time.

Armand’s fingers brushed along Lestat’s jaw in a worshipful manner, echoing the other’s actions, then moved to his lips, toying with the notion of kissing him again. Lestat shivered as if Armand had actually kissed him. He imagined doing it as well. It would be such a small thing, to tip his face those last couple inches, and yet he refrained.

Armand twisted his fingers into Lestat’s shirt, pulling him close enough that their lips brushed sinfully as he spoke aloud, “Why refrain now?” The movement teased the kiss that could be. “Have we not been open enough?”

Each brush of Armand’s lips against his own made sparks shoot into Lestat’s mind so that he could hardly even hear the question. He gasped and caught Armand’s lower lip lightly between his teeth to make it stop moving.

Armand moaned quietly, shivers setting his body alight. It was maddening, not even enough to break the skin, so damnedly gentle. Then he could not control another whimper as Lestat released it to allow his lips to fully claim Armand’s. Armand needed no encouragement to deepen the kiss once it began. _God, this…always this. Nothing else between us…please…_ it was a nonsensical plea, a realization that he had wasted so much time arguing with Lestat.

Lestat sank into the kiss, not even realizing how tense he’d been until everything began to relax. _Yes,_ his mind repeated, Y _es_ , over and over again in agreement. _Yes_.

Fortunately, Lestat was not thinking about anything he might actually need to keep from Armand. Such thoughts were the furthest thing from his mind, and for the moment, he could be entirely content with this, openly kissing Armand comfortably on the couch in the fabulous apartment they shared.

_Yes, yes, yes._

Armand sighed, his arms coming to wrap around Lestat’s neck as one might hold a lover. Love. That was what he felt for Lestat at this moment, or something very close to it. The thought took him by surprise, so long had it been since he’d felt it towards anyone but his maker. It filled him with a sense of vulnerability.

The outpouring of love overwhelmed Lestat as well. He’d never received anything quite like it from anyone before. And even if it were but a temporary thing inspired by the moment of their telepathic connection, he cherished it.

Breaking the kiss, Armand rested his forehead against Lestat’s, his breath heavy with the intensity of it all, his cheeks flushed. “Will you spend the night with me? Just this once?” He gazed into his eyes hopefully.

“No,” Lestat said breathlessly, a teasing smile on his lips. Not _just_ this once. Slowly, he kissed Armand on the eyelids. “Your bed or mine?”

Armand smiled softly, though his heart fell ever so slightly at the insinuation that there would be more nights than this. He wished it, he truly did. He only hoped it was the truth.


	14. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestat and Marius finally have a long-overdue conversation.

Every time Lestat had hoped to catch Marius for some time alone with him, something seemed to come up. Someone was always around. Of course, he’d also been rather wonderfully distracted with Louis’s progress with killing and the hope for their future together that gave him. And then, of course, there was everything that had been going on with Armand. But after last night, he was filled with renewed purpose, and when he heard Marius go up to the apartment building’s roof while the others were out, Lestat seized the chance.

Marius stood on the empty rooftop, feverishly sketching the New York skyline. This was something he tried to do for every city he visited. The way the lights reflected off the night sky was its own art form.

As Lestat joined him, he considered the vast rectangular space. Surely there was something that could be done with it. A rooftop garden, perhaps. A trellis or two…some fairy lights… He’d have to see about having all that arranged.

Reaching Marius, he put an affectionate hand on his shoulder in greeting as he looked at the view past him. “So does this city agree with you, then?” he asked with an easy smile.

Marius welcomed the touch, lowering his pad and pocketing his pencil to give Lestat his full attention. “No,” he said simply. “It lacks the beauty of Roma, the romance of Venetzia, and the allure of Firenze.”

Lestat laughed, squeezing Marius before releasing him. “You old snob.”

“I may let that comment slide,” he warned, though the fondness in his voice showed no hard feelings.

Going to the edge of the roof, Lestat looked down at the passersby. “Is scenery all you think about anymore? But how do the people compare?” He’d developed a fondness for Americans himself since moving to the country five years ago. Though the ones in New York certainly differed from those in New Orleans.

“The people are loud, move too quickly and rather rotund,” Marius said. “Shall I go on?” He raised a brow. “Though I trust you did not seek me out to discuss my opinions on America.”

“Indeed!” Lestat turned back to face him with an excited smile. “You must tell me everything that’s occurred since I left you. Leave nothing out, no matter how small. How is she?”

“You ask a lot of me.” His voice was weary. “She is well…safe.” He spoke vaguely on purpose. “Finding such a place has been difficult in such a dirty city.”

Lestat’s eyes widened almost impossibly huge. “She’s here?” he whispered.

“A temporary measure. I assure you,” Marius replied curtly. He was not happy with his own decision, but he’d been backed into the choice. “Why do you ask?” he inquired, figuring Lestat was up to something.

Lestat laughed again, though more in delight than because the question was so ridiculous. How could he _not_ ask? “All is truly well? The danger passed?” He sighed, contended.

“Well enough as they can be,” he replied quietly, a note of thoughtfulness in his voice.

“Take me to her,” Lestat said, his impulses taking hold, and he stepped to Marius entreatingly.

“No.” The single word was harsh and firm.

Lestat sighed, disappointed, but not surprised. He studied Marius for a moment before looking back over his shoulder at the city, raking a hand through his hair to keep the wind from blowing in his eyes.

She was out there somewhere. _Akasha._ Their mother, their queen. So close. If Lestat concentrated, would he be able to sense her? Hone in on her powerful heartbeat? Find her somehow? Would Enkil squash him like a bug if he tried?

He knew there was no concealing these thoughts from Marius, so he looked back to him apologetically. “I can’t help it,” he said with a defeated shrug. “It’s been five years, but I still dream about her, you know.” He hesitated before asking his next question, wary how Marius would react. “Do you think they’re just dreams? Or do you think it could be her, giving them to me?”

Marius’s expression softened and he quashed any feelings of jealousy before they could bubble to the surface. “How interesting,” he prompted as he considered it. “I postulate that she is trying to speak to you.” He felt it would be best to be open with his thoughts. “Tell me about those dreams. What is she requesting of you?”

Shaking his head, Lestat’s fingers curled in his hair as the memory of the dreams made him feel lighter. “Images, smells tastes…her face, her hair, her blood… She bids me come to her, and sometimes I do, and sometimes I cannot.” They were probably just dreams, but Lestat would always wonder if there were more to them. “She says she wants the world…” But wasn’t that the same thing Lestat wanted? Perhaps it was all just subconscious projection after all. His hand dropped to his side. “Do you dream about her?”

Marius considered the implications. These dreams didn’t seem like just fantasy to him. “No. I am not given the privilege,” he said, keeping any bitterness out of his voice. “You have a connection to her. There is no denying that.”

Lestat studied him thoughtfully, truly caring how all this might affect him, though knowing there was nothing he could do to make any negative feelings better. He felt sorry for them, though, if they festered beneath Marius’s polished surface. He nodded distractedly, as he thought about how surely such a connection to Akasha had to be good for _something_. “But really,” he finally spoke again with another sigh. “I mean to speak with you about Louis.”

Marius stood in silence for a few brief moments. He doted over Those Who Must Be Kept and felt slighted. But he pushed those thoughts further down and was grateful for the change of subject. “Louis? What about him? Did something happen?”

A short bitter laugh escaped Lestat. Something was always happening with Louis. Or in many cases, _not_ happening, which was worse. He shook his head. “You’ve met him, you’ve seen him. So you know how _perfect_ he is. He eclipses even me and you in his love for humanity. Mortality. Never has there been one of us so… _human_.”

Lestat had made Louis that way deliberately because of Marius’s advice to keep his fledglings as human as possible. Lestat’s powerful blood had been enough to make his first fledgling, Gabrielle into a marble goddess to be reckoned with, and he could only imagine what his blood might make of a fledgling now since he’d drunk so much from Marius and Akasha since then. But he’d given Louis the absolute bare minimum of it. Just the right amount and not a drop more to keep him as connected to his mortality as he possibly could. And the reward for Lestat’s efforts had been far more transcendent than he ever anticipated with the miracle that resulted in Louis. Such a perfect creature of darkness had never before existed, Lestat was certain of it.

“But he is desperate,” he continued. “He is miserable. His very humanity is in some ways more curse than beauty. These past five years have been…” He shook his head in frustration at the memories of their time in Louisiana that ended in fire and destruction. He decided to just get to the point. “He begs for truths, for answers. And so I’ve been thinking… what if I…just give them to him?”

He said all this in hope of Marius’s blessing. If Lestat meant to do it without it, he would have already. But he’d been steadfast about keeping all Marius’s secrets exactly as instructed ever since he gave his promise—even despite all the domestic disputes revealing them could have solved. And he would have continued doing so forever. But now that he and Marius were together again, everything could be different!

“Yes,” Marius replied thoughtfully. “I have observed the humanity within him. It is unlike anything I’ve observed in my time on this Earth.” He fell silent again, for there was much to consider. “I can respect a curious mind. I value the trait. However…this may not be something that would be wise.” There was another pause. “His humanity would make him no match for Those Who Must Be Kept. And should you tell him of them, he would wish to seek them out as you had.” His expression became worried. “Tell me…would you propose such an idea to Akasha herself? Do you think she would permit it?”

“Yes,” Lestat said, instantly sure. Akasha would cherish anyone he loved. He was convinced of that the same way he was convinced Marius would never harm anyone Lestat cared about. And after all, none of them were truly any match for the mother and father regardless of how strong. “But If Louis asked such a thing, would you permit it?” Lestat had been so prepared for Marius to shoot his request down immediately, and he brimmed with excitement now that he was even humoring this conversation. “Although, I’m not so sure he would ask to see them,” he added. “For him, it might simply be enough to hear these things.” At least in so far as enough to serve Lestat’s goal of mending the years of bitterness and resentment Louis felt toward him for never teaching him anything.

Marius thought about it some more. The desperation in Lestat where this issue with Louis was concerned reminded him too much of himself when he thought of Armand. “It is not my decision,” he said finally. “Go to our Queen. Ask her yourself. I will direct you to her. If her answer is yes, then you have my blessing.”

Lestat’s eyes widened again and he began to tremble as if cold in the breeze on the roof. It was something halfway between fear and excitement that shook him, and he didn’t bother pretending otherwise. “And if she gives no answer at all?” he asked cautiously, almost dreading the answer.

“We will cross that bridge when we get there. I do not want to speak on her behalf. I do hope that you understand,” he added kindly.

Overjoyed, Lestat clasped Marius’s hands in gratitude. “I do. I swear. And you’ll tell me where to find her?” He’d been so certain Marius would bar him from her forever…for Lestat’s safety, if nothing else, after how Enkil reacted last time. “Oh, but won’t you come with me?” he asked abruptly. Not because he was afraid, but because it seemed like something too great to keep to himself.

Marius gently pulled his hands free. He did not feel the best about this choice, but he also knew that it was the only option for Lestat to get his answer. “I will take you to her. Though I doubt I can protect you from the king,” he admitted. “Not this time. Do act with care.”

Lestat resisted the urge to throw his arms around Marius in terrified excitement. He nodded immediately. He could behave. He could be good! He was so filled with hope, it seemed impossible that this was the night he would be killed by an ancient jealous vampire god. “Will we go now?” he asked brazenly, though he’d understand if Marius wanted to wait until tomorrow night. He was sure he’d explode, though, if he had to wait any longer than that.

“Now?” He shook his head. “Patience is a virtue. A virtue that you should work on.” He had no problem giving criticism to his protégés. It was the teacher in him. “We will go when the time is right.”

Lestat laughed, breathlessly dismayed. He dearly hoped Marius didn’t mean to make him wait weeks. Each day longer he lived with his lies to Louis dug the hole of bitterness between them further. But he didn’t bother arguing with Marius, fearful it might only make him forestall longer. Or worse, change his mind altogether. “I think virtue is something I’m already quite beyond in my monstrous career,” he said with a sigh.

Marius raised a brow. “You can learn.” His mind was made up, and he didn’t want to press on this topic. Not right now at least.

Lestat would wait, but it would be most impatiently, and he knew Marius could tell as much from his mind. “Thank you,” he said with sincerity. “For Louis’s sake.” His head tilted as he regarded him, admiring the way the breeze made the ends of his long pale hair dance in the moonlight.

Marius’s expression softened. “You really care for him, don’t you?” There was a note of fondness in his voice.

A lovesick smile rose to Lestat’s face. The way he cared for Louis made him so damn miserable all the time, he wondered if he should wish he didn’t. But that would be impossible. “I’ve been lost since the moment I first saw him,” he admitted. “Thoroughly. He’s… perfect,” he repeated at a loss for more eloquent words.

Lestat’s expression brought a warmth to Marius’s old heart. He knew that look far too well. It was a look he wore when he thought of his Amadeo. “The best ones seem perfect to us. Love has a way of doing that.” He paused, remaining pensive. “Take care of him.”

Lestat smiled, amused. Louis didn’t need taking care of, but that was such a Marius thing to say, he couldn’t bring himself to rebut it. “You’ll help me with that,” he said fondly. Marius bringing him to Akasha would be the first step in his plan to do right by Louis. “When will you take Armand to them?” he asked presumptively as he wondered if perhaps they might simply all go at the same time.

The warm smile Marius had bestowed on him faded at the mention of Armand. “That is not your concern,” he said with finality. Though behind the firmness of his tone hovered some deeper agitation.

Lestat’s brows pinched. It was _very much_ his concern, though he didn’t bother saying so aloud. “He asked me about it, you know,” he explained cautiously. “Last night. I did as you told me. Threw up images, buried the memories deep. He took nothing from my mind. But, honestly Marius, I still fear he could. If he pushed hard enough. Which he _has_ done…” Lestat flinched faintly at the memory. He assumed Marius knew about that upsetting incident, but even if he didn’t, it was no matter. All real bitterness had been washed clean by the night he and Armand had spent in each other’s arms. “But even if he never did, I don’t like…” He paused for half a breath. “I want to be open with him.”

“I appreciate that you have followed my instructions.” Marius figured praise was the best way to broach the subject. “But I will handle the situation in my own way at the right time.” He chose these words carefully. He would have told Lestat his full plan for sharing the ancient mysteries with Armand, but he worried the young vampire would let it slip.

Lestat bit his tongue, keeping from voicing the frustration that simmered within him. If he would keep spending more nights with Armand the way they had last night (and he certainly wanted to), maintaining the secret was going to be very difficult to manage.

“Yes, of course,” he said quietly, wanting Marius to know he would continue following all instructions despite how he obviously disagreed.

“Good.” His expression softened again, believing Lestat would not betray his trust. “Thank you,” he added, knowing that Lestat was under no obligation to respect him. “I wish to tell him in my own way.”

That gave him hope. He just prayed whatever Marius’s intention was would happen before Armand asked Lestat about it again. The necessary lies would be painful for both of them, and Lestat didn’t want to fight any more.


	15. Books and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis invites Armand into his room for an intimate moment. And this time, they’re both awake.

Armand didn’t have to read Louis’s thoughts through the walls to gather that he was reorganizing the bookshelf in his room in the early morning hours. Though it rather amused him, he was pleased to find his new housemate so preoccupied with his books. And alone. The memories of the dream he’d had about Louis continued to taunt him, and Armand was past the point of pretending he would never do anything about it. He longed to make that dream a reality. And now that he’d mended his bridge with Lestat, there was nothing to keep Armand from seeking all the pleasures of the sensitive Louis’s company.

He knocked softly upon the bedroom door. “Good evening,” he spoke through it politely. “Could I ask something of you?”

Louis had been expecting Lestat but wasn’t unhappy to hear Armand’s voice. He put down the volumes he’d been focusing on recategorizing by genre and opened the door. “Good evening. Of course you may. Although I am not sure how much help I can be.” He gestured into the room, which was filled with neat piles of books. “Forgive my lack of manners, do come in.”

Armand looked around with a small smile as he entered. It looked different than it had in his dream, which was in many ways a relief. True to the dream though, he retained his own manners and refused to sit until asked. He would have to play this right.

“I’m sure you can help,” he said. “I’m looking for a book. And why step outside for one when you have a veritable library within the confines of our apartment?” He smiled. The last thing he wanted was to offend sweet Louis.

“Oh?” he replied, unable to hide his surprise. “That I can help with. Well, in most cases.” He gave a shy smile, taking Armand’s words as a compliment.

“You didn’t peg me as a reader?” An expression of mock offense danced over his features in battle with his smile.

“I saw you as more of the spoken word sort,” he said politely, offering another soft smile of his own. “That is also not what I was expecting to be asked.”

“I hope by the ‘spoken word sort’ you are not insinuating low intelligence.” Armand raised a brow.

“No…not at all. I was referring to theater more than literature,” he corrected. “The two are tied but not the same.” Louis felt his cheeks turn red. “What are you looking for?” he asked. “Forgive the mess, it may take some time to dig something out until it’s back on the shelves.”

“Therein lies the problem. I don’t know what I want to read. But I don’t see the flaw in taking my time to find something. I’m in good company, after all.” He let his gaze linger on Louis just enough to catch his attention before looking over the bookshelves and piles. “What would you recommend?”

“I could recommend hundreds of books. But you may want to start with a classic. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly is worth a read,” he offered as he pored through the stacks. “Or maybe Anna Karenina.”

“I’ve read more books than years I’ve been alive and then some. I’ve definitely read the classics. Show me something obscure…please.” Armand softened his expression, careful not to discourage Louis from behaving as he wished, and he sat on the bed to wait.

“All right…I think this might be interesting.” He pulled out a copy of _At the_ _‘Cadian Ball_ and offered it to him.

Taking the book, he made sure to brush his fingers against Louis’s, gently enough to alight the senses before locking eyes with him. “Thank you.”

The touch sent a shiver through Louis. In the back of his mind, he heard Lestat’s warning from the other night. _Be careful with Armand._ “My pleasure. I hope it tickles your fancy. If anythin’ it’s a lot t’ mull over.” A bit of his southern accent slipped out in his distraction.

Armand tilted his head. He’d been almost sure his dreaming mind had made up those changes in Louis’s voice. “That’s interesting…that you do that.” He smiled softly to encourage it.

Louis bowed his head, becoming self conscious. “Do what?” he asked, although he knew exactly what Armand was referring to.

“Louis, it’s okay, I—” He needed to proceed with caution; Louis did not need to know that he had dreamt about him. It was a card he would keep to his chest for the time being. Still, he felt as though they’d had this conversation before, and this time, he would put him at ease sooner. He maintained his gaze. “I like it. There’s truly nothing to be ashamed of.”

“If you want to discuss the book later…” He trailed off. _Or read it together_ , he thought, leaving that unspoken.

Although he had no intention of reading them, Louis’s thoughts jumped out at Armand, and he allowed himself another smile. “Perhaps there is more you could tell me about it?”

“Yeah…’course,” he said as he settled on the bed and looked at the cover. “You see, The ‘Cadian Ball is a soirée for young people to find marriage suitors. Calixta is the belle of the ball and describes the young men as boring and plain looking. Except for a man of lower class… It’s a novel about status and equality…”

Armand had to bite his lip. It was definitely not his sort of story, and wouldn’t have been at any point in his life. He allowed humor to spread to his eyes and looked up at Louis, who was infinitely closer to him now, poring over his features. “With all due respect, I think we may be searching a little longer…if you have the time for it.”

“Sure. We can find something else. I have plenty of time.” His poor choice of book reminded Louis how little he knew of Armand. “Tell me, what sort of books do you fancy? Or you can pick anything that looks interesting.”

In all honesty, Armand was past the point of trying to find a book. Though he found that he enjoyed Louis’s company immensely, and he was not ready to leave. “What’s your favorite book?”

“Les Miserables,” he admitted. “It’s a story of redemption, faith, and love.” He immediately regretted his words, feeling like a sap. “It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Perhaps I’ve not read all the classics…” Armand said quietly. He was sure he hadn’t read _Les Miserables_. Though if he had, the way Louis talked about it made him feel as though it may be a worth a re-read. “I read really very quickly. I could have it back to you soon.”

“We live together. Take it for as long as you want,” he said, his voice warm and his eyes holding a softness behind them. “I would like to hear your thoughts on the book, though.”

“Still, I know you care deeply for your books. Not that I know a lot about you.” Armand spoke almost regretfully, locking eyes with Louis again and falling into his expression. He found that he had no intentions of moving off the bed, either to find the book or to leave the room.

“Nor I about you,” Louis said quietly. “Other than what Lestat has hinted of.” His gaze did not waver from Armand. “I…don’t know if I believe any of it though.”

Armand frowned slightly though kept hold of Louis’s eyes, happy to have his full attention. “Now what has Lestat said about me, and how can I put your mind at ease?” He tilted his head.

“It’s rude to gossip,” Louis said, avoiding the answer. “But I don’t understand why he’d warn me about you.”

Armand’s brows shot up. “Warn you? I assure you, Louis, I’ve no malicious intentions. Look at me, do I seem the sort?” He knew for a fact that he didn’t. A Botticelli angel, that’s what they used to call him…what Marius used to call him. Now more than ever that he was not a dusty coven master, and he wore bright and clean modern clothes. He tucked some hair behind his ear and looked at Louis with wide, inquisitive eyes.

“You do not look the sort,” Louis agreed. “But I did promise him I’d be careful… though I think he’s jealous. I don’t know. “ He found himself rambling. “I’m sorry. I’ve said too much.”

Armand laughed softly and shook his head. “And again, I assure you. Lestat does not feel threatened by me. Quite the opposite.” He neglected to mention his own fears regarding Lestat and Marius. He wondered how he might catch Louis’s attentions then, or even if he could.

“I understand,” Louis said.

“What did you promise to be careful of?” Armand asked. “Do you expect me to bite?”

Louis’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh…I mean…” He hesitated. “I don’t think that’s what he worries about.” It took a moment for him to recover from the rush of excitement at thought of being bitten.

Armand looked up at Louis slyly. “So, you fluster when you think you’ve paid someone insult, and now. What did I say, Louis?” He knew, of course, exactly what had triggered Louis’s reaction, though he wanted to proceed with caution, lest he overstep a line and drive him away.

“It’s nothing. I assure you.” Louis did not want to broach the subject. He wasn’t even sure if such things were something he actually liked, but the idea intrigued him enough. “I know you don’t bite. I’m not worried.”

Armand laughed openly, though quickly quieted himself. He did not want Louis to think he was mocking him. “Not so fast, I bite when I feed,” he murmured as he leaned slightly forward. “I bite when someone asks it of me.”

Louis swallowed thickly and kept his gaze locked on Armand. Subconsciously, he moved his hand to his neck. “Has anyone ever asked it of you?” he asked before he had the chance to stop himself.

Armand doused his smile to a sinful quirk of the lip. “If you take a vampire lover, it’s very much par for the course. You may discover that for yourself.” With the way that Louis seemed almost enraptured by him, Armand wondered if he should give him something to look at. “Why so many questions?”

“It’s in my nature… Forgive me if I’ve overstepped,” Louis said, trying and failing to put his guard back up. He moved his hands to his lap. “I can certainly bother Lestat with my inquiries if it is too much.”

All this was still so reminiscent of Armand’s dream. And he’d had Louis hanging on his every word then. “You’ve not overstepped. Your questions are always welcome here.” He smiled kindly, placing a hand on Louis and delivering a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “Yes, it has been asked of me. Begged of me, once or twice. Though that is not intended as a brag.”

Louis’s hand reached to take Armand’s but it was gone before he had a chance to make contact. “I can understand why,” he said quietly. He bit his lip a little too hard and drop of blood welled up.

Armand smiled, though he had to admit a little concern for Louis’s well-being and seeming frustration. He reached over and wiped the blood away with his thumb, purposefully grazing it slowly across Louis’s lip before pulling back. “Would you like me to leave?” he asked tenderly, respectfully.

“No,” he said too quickly. “I don’t want to be alone right now,” he admitted although organizing books was not really a team endeavor. “I was hoping to ask another question, if I may.”

Armand wiped the drop of blood on his sleeve. Were he trying harder, he would have tasted it, made a show of it. But he truly did not want to overwhelm Louis. “Please, do. As I said. Any questions are welcome.”

“Do you have a lover?” Louis’s curiosity was killing him, and he needed to know whose jealousy he would now need to avoid, although he was pretty sure that vampires couldn’t read minds.

Armand was taken aback, and he smiled despite himself. “Insofar as any vampire does. Everyone and no-one. What makes you ask that?” he probed gently, genuinely curious. “Do I give the impression of someone well practiced?”

Louis decided to take a leap, but at the same time still tread carefully. “ You do…and I haven’t much experience with men. Especially beautiful ones.”

Just to look at Louis, Armand found this extremely surprising. As a child of the renaissance, when all that mattered was luxury and wine and beautiful people, when the leading powers in art were those drunk in obsession with the male body, Michelangelo, Da Vinci…Armand himself had experienced more pleasures of the flesh in his short years in Venice than anyone in his provincial little village by the Dneiper would have in their whole lives. But to know Louis, and to consider his upbringing and what he knew of his mortal life, his abstinence seemed less surprising.

“I am,” Armand replied. “I’ll admit that to you. But there is no shame in inexperience. Many lovers covet it. What are your intentions?” he asked tenderly. “How can I help?”

Louis’s cheeks were pink, yet at the same time he seemed strangely relaxed. “Would you bite me if I asked?” He chose his words carefully, his gaze fixed on the man before him.

Armand held Louis’s gaze with an encouraging confidence. “In a heartbeat, Louis, if you asked.” His voice dripped with a passion that he hoped would only fuel Louis’s desires. Though he hesitated as something occurred to him. “Would you not ask Lestat first?”

“He would laugh at me,” Louis admitted quietly. “Especially if he knew.” His cheeks retained their blush, however a look of sadness rose behind his eyes. “I do not think he has eyes for me.”

Armand would have laughed at this had Louis not seemed so fragile. He moved closer, clasping both of his hands gently. “You are blind, deaf and dumb then. Lestat chose you. Even if he does not vocalize it, he wants nothing more than a wild hunt followed by a night of passion with you and you alone. He is enamored of you…” He trailed off, caressing Louis’s hands. “We all are. He would dance till dawn if you even broached the subject with him.”

Louis found comfort in Armand’s touch quite unexpectedly. “Is he? He often laughs at me, takes my money as if it's his own, and we have almost nothing in common.” It felt odd to say it all out loud.

“I cannot speak for him, but I know that he wants you. And I know that those things are in his nature.” It was all Armand would say on the matter. These were problems that Louis would need to work through with Lestat. And for the moment, Armand would be the dangerous bastard that Lestat had warned him against. “Though in the meantime, if you need me, I am here.”

Louis exhaled. He was not certain how to interpret the statement. Lately he’d been so wrapped up in his own brooding that he was oblivious to the feelings of others. “Are you the type to enjoy an embrace?”

“I am partial to anything.” Armand smiled.

Louis hesitated for a moment and then moved closer to him, feeling he wanted nothing more than to be held. “Good,” he said, allowing the comfortable silence to wash over him.

This evening had not gone as Armand intended. However, to establish himself as someone to come to in times of need did not seem like a terrible thing. Making himself comfortable on the bed, he opened his arms in invitation. “And all this for a book,” he remarked amusedly.

Louis moved into the embrace. “Are you complaining?” he asked with a smile of his own. “I could give you a random book and shove you out if that is what you’re looking for.”

Bringing his arms comfortingly around him, Armand slid one hand into Louis’s hair to absentmindedly play with his black curls. “You could…” he hummed quietly. “Or I could stay and show you what Lestat was warning you against.”

“Color me intrigued.” Louis sighed softly as he relaxed against him. “I do want to understand what it was he spoke of.”

“If I ever were to bite you, where would make you moan the most?” Armand used his free hand to dance over parts of Louis’s body. “Here?” he breathed, drawing his fingers gently along Louis’s throat, keeping his voice barely above a heady whisper. Before he could stir too much of a bodily reaction, his fingers traversed to Louis’s chest, drawing circles over a pectoral. “Here?”

Louis was not used to this sort of attention. Not at this level. His breath hitched, and he tilted his head to expose his neck further, wordlessly answering the question.

Armand moved back to Louis’s throat, grazing it with his knuckles. “Here, then?” he coaxed, almost amused at how acutely Louis was responding. “And would it be a gentle graze, barely enough to stimulate?” he purred, pressing a kiss to Louis’s hair. His fingers curled around his throat tightening just slightly. “Or would it be sharp and sudden, leaving you completely at my mercy?”

Louis was already completely at Armand’s mercy. Part of him worried he was in over his head, while the other part, the louder part, loved it. “Yes.” He sighed softly. “Please.” He was not sure what he was even asking for at this point. He wanted anything.

“Please what, Louis?” He spoke the name almost reverently, letting it linger. “What do you want? I want to hear it from you.”

His Catholic upbringing and overly conservative nature made it so difficult to articulate what he was asking for. “Ravish me,” Louis barely whispered. “Please, Armand.”

His conscience should have told him to relent now, to leave this to Lestat. At least the first time. But Armand was no angel, not truly, and the desperation in Louis’s tone was enough to strip all judgment from his mind. His dream had become reality. Releasing Louis enough to move over him, Armand peppered gentle kisses to his sensitive throat before biting down enough to draw blood. He could not suppress a moan. He would not drink for long, just a taste. Just enough pain to excite.

Louis let out an audible moan of his own. His eyes fluttered shut and his head tilted back as he allowed himself to enjoy this. The years of pent up frustration becoming undone. “Armand…” he breathed.

He licked at the wound, barely allowing Louis to get accustomed to it before biting down again a little further up. “Blood makes quick work of bed sheets. Shall I give you something to remember me by?” Armand asked, his voice rich with the success of his seduction as he bit down again.

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me,” Louis said, his own voice husky. He could feel his own heart pounding as his blood flowed willingly into Armand’s mouth.

The fact that Louis, sophisticated, conservative Louis was willing to get blood on his own bed sheets was enough for Armand to laugh breathlessly. He moved up the hollow of Louis’s throat, lapping at the mess he’d made before instigating a deep, biting kiss on Louis’s lips. He cut his own tongue in the process, allowing Louis a taste of his blood in return. It only seemed fair.

Louis returned the kiss eagerly. Tasting Armand’s blood was unlike anything he’d experienced. The next thing he knew, he was no longer in his room, it was like a cinema almost. He could see what he assumed was Venice from what he’d seen in books. The grand canals lining the streets. There was a grand palazzo. Louis couldn’t help but think that this was the most Armand place. He deepened the kiss, becoming more passionate with each moment as he tried to coax more blood from it.

A rich, appreciative sound escaped Armand. He pried Louis’s demanding mouth away from his own with great difficulty, gazing into his emerald eyes. Louis’s let out a soft whine in protest as the scene from the blood vision disappeared and a sense of loss accompanied him.

Armand pressed Louis’s lips to his own throat as he found himself straddling his hips. “Drink,” he commanded, praying Louis wouldn’t need to be asked twice. Armand wanted to give himself in his entirety, for as long as Louis would take him. He was strong enough for that.

Louis sank his fangs into Armand’s neck and coaxed the blood from the wound. He could hear his heart pounding in sync with Armand’s, and this time he was inside the palazzo. The place was lavishly furnished and a bit gaudy for his taste.

Armand sighed at the ferocity with which Louis tore into his throat. He had forgotten the euphoria of being drunk from, the delectable powerlessness that came with giving oneself to another. He let Louis explore the palazzo halls for as long as he wished, let him catch glimpses of his old friends…of Albinus, Riccardo. He laced his hands into Louis’s hair and pressed him in harder, wanting him to take what he could before Armand would begin to feel drained.

One of Louis’s hands found its way into Armand’s hair as well, while his hips rolled forward in search of friction as he felt himself nearing release. Armand laughed again, breathlessly as Louis bucked beneath him. He could not have fathomed the extent of Louis’s frustration up until this moment. He could feel himself begin to falter as Louis drew the blood, though he clutched to his shoulders for balance, knowing that if he could just hold on a little longer, he would be able to satisfy him in more ways than one.

Louis’s grip on Armand’s hair tightened and his breathing became ragged as he fed. The mix of sensations and experience was enough to push him over the edge. He moaned against Armand’s skin as he felt himself climax.

A veritable thrill passed through Armand as Louis tensed against him in that carnal way. He used the second after to push him from his throat, though he let him rest his head upon his shoulder as he carded his fingers through his ebony curls. “How was that?” he asked softly, wanting to hear it from Louis’s mouth. He felt exhausted himself, and fell into the comfortable silence as he held him.

Louis’s muscles relaxed. “Wonderful,” he said without having to think too hard about it. He felt rejuvenated and drained at the same time, and it was glorious. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Armand. “Don’ go, okay?” he asked, his voice full of sleep.

Armand chuckled softly. He pressed a kiss to Louis’s head and pried his arms away. Luckily there seemed to be no mess on the bed sheets. Nothing comparable to the mess Louis had made of his pants, anyway. “I think, caro mio…” Armand whispered sweetly as he set Louis down and licked the blood from his healed wounds. “That Lestat would prefer to hear of this than find the evidence himself.”

Louis’s eyes were growing heavy. A feeling of loss washed over him as Armand maneuvered outside of his embrace. “Hmm,” he agreed reluctantly. “I wish you could stay.”

Armand caressed some of the hair from Louis’s face as he drifted off to sleep. Dropping a kiss to his forehead, he then tucked him in. He watched him fondly, only now considering the consequences of his actions, though Armand would never claim to regret them. What would Lestat do when he learned of all this? Had he already jeopardized what he’d gained with Lestat last night? With a sigh, he picked up the copy of _Les Miserables_ and left the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter title: Armand Goes Three for Three


	16. A Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis has a confession to make to Lestat.

_In the month of May in the year of our Lord 2020_

_I have known another in a carnal way. Though it was in many ways unexpected. Firstly, it was with another man. Secondly, that man was Armand. And last_ _…I enjoyed it. The intimacy of it. The taste of his blood._

_I also hold conflict in my heart. For I love Lestat, and Armand suspects the feeling is mutual. Although I am not so certain. However, I want to know Armand…I wish to discuss literature with him….. but what of Lestat?_

_If he discovered this, he would cast me out at best. At worst, he wants nothing of me._

Putting down his pen, Louis stared at his journal. Should he confess to Lestat what had happened the night prior? On one hand, he and Lestat weren’t exactly romantically involved. But on the other, he loved the man.

Louis spent hours agonizing over his anxiety, but in the end, he decided to man up and confess. He would be honest with Lestat, and whatever happened would happen.

Leaving his room, he heard Lestat’s voice coming from the kitchen. By his tone, Louis could tell he was talking to the dog. He sounded so happy that Louis almost turned around. But he exhaled, giving himself a brief mental pep talk before approaching the kitchen.

Inside, Lestat was humming to himself while portioning the finest kibble money could buy into an expensively ornate ceramic dog bowl as Cordelia waited at his heels, her pretty tail thumping the floor. Over the past few nights, he had bought every possible practical accessory a dog could desire from the most fabulous pet store in the neighborhood. It was his plan to thoroughly spoil Cordelia for all of her remaining short canine years.

The kitchen door opened. “Lestat… Can we talk?”

The sound of Louis’s voice made him smile, and he turned from the counter. How he hoped Louis wished to talk about hunting together again. However, when he saw Louis, he froze.

The first thing he noticed was the change to his eyes. The perfect softness, the nearly-human sheen to their emerald color was gone. It had been replaced by the iridescence that marked the vampire’s eye, like the wing of an insect caught in the bright kitchen lights.

The dog bowl slipped from Lestat’s stunned fingers to smash to the floor, sending shards of porcelain and kibble everywhere. Cordelia yelped and skittered backward, but Lestat didn’t even notice, he was too shocked, staring at Louis.

The breaking bowl made Louis jump, the sound magnified by his hearing to an unexpected amplitude. The way Lestat was staring at him was enough to make Louis lose his nerve. “If you’re busy, we can talk later,” he said, backing toward the door.

Lestat blinked and shook his head, for a second thinking he might have imagined what he saw in Louis’s eyes, or that this was some kind of dream, that it couldn’t possibly be true. But there were other signs too—the sheen to Louis’s skin, even the very subtle way he held his shoulders.

In a delayed way, Lestat looked down at the pieces of bowl and dog food all over the floor. How did that get there?

He blinked again, realizing through the fog that Louis was leaving, and Lestat’s eyes snapped back up to him. He tried to move, but couldn’t and had to put a hand against the counter for support. “He gave you his blood,” he said so breathlessly it was almost inaudible.

Louis swallowed thickly. He blushed and kept his head down. “Yes,” he said. “I want to ask you for forgiveness.” He chose his words carefully. “I…was ashamed.” For someone who was usually articulate, he struggled to find the right words.

Too fast, Lestat shot across the room and took Louis’s face between his hands, lifting it so he could see it again. Up close, the changes were even more obvious, and the little color that was in Lestat’s face drained away.

It was like a claw gripped his throat, and he couldn’t speak. Why would Marius do this? Why? Lestat had made Louis with the exact right amount of blood and not a drop more. Just last night, he and Marius were talking on the roof about how perfect Louis was in his humanness. How unlike other vampires he was. Why would Marius do anything to take that away? That aspect of Louis which Lestat so cherished… _gone_ …

“Oh, Louis…” he finally managed, his voice breaking.

Louis took a step closer. Although he did not understand the true root of Lestat’s reaction, there was a deep sadness behind his eyes, and the guilt was killing him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, meaning to apologize for his romantic betrayal. “I would understand if you do not want anything more to do with me.” Terrible emotion was building up inside him.

Lestat squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers curling in the hair on the sides of Louis’s head. His mind was in a complete jumble, and Louis’s words made no sense. He took a sharp breath, letting him go and stepping back enough to look at him again.

“Me??” Lestat shook his head. It would be rather hypocritical of him to hold these changes against Louis. If he had actually chosen to gain new powers, become more _vampire_ , how could Lestat abandon him for such a thing? And there was no way Marius would have forced the blood on Louis. No, he must have simply offered it in that same generous way he had with Lestat the night they first met.

“This…this is what you wanted?” Lestat asked, just needing to hear it said. He gestured to Louis top to bottom. “You asked for this?”

Louis’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” he whispered, so confused. “I don’t understand.” A note of fear rose in his voice.

A chill hand seemed to grip Lestat’s heart. If he were human, he might have begun to hyperventilate. “The blood,” he stammered. “The powerful blood. Did you ask for it?”

“Armand gave me his blood when he kissed me. I did not think it would… Am I sick?” Louis sounded scared now. Lestat’s reaction was unlike anything he’d seen.

Lestat recoiled in an oddly human way, taking a sharp step back. The chill around his heart at once spread immediately through his entire body and his eyes went dark. “Armand?” he whispered. “You said Armand…”

“I did… Who else would want to sleep with me?” Louis asked cautiously. He kept his gaze fixed upon his maker, the fear lingering in his eyes. “You didn’t answer me. Am I sick? Do vampires get venereal diseases?”

Lestat stared at him. There was so much to unpack in those sentences, he didn’t even know where to begin. He was still struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that it was _Armand_ not Marius who’d given Louis so much blood, that the rest of Louis’s revelations seemed a much more distant horror.

“Have you…not seen yourself?” he stammered. Snapping himself out his shock, he abruptly grabbed Louis’s arm and pulled him from the kitchen, down the hall to his own room, which had more than its share of mirrors. He spun Louis in front of the full length one, standing behind him to look at the reflection as well over his shoulder, his fingers digging into Louis’s arms.

Louis had always found the amount of mirrors in Lestat’s room sort of charming, and he was used to them. However, what he was not used to was the being that stared back at him now. He felt himself getting weak in the knees; his legs no longer wanted to support him. “I’m a monster,” he whispered.

He didn’t realize it until it happened, but Lestat had been half hoping Louis would say he liked what he saw. That all this was just as he had desired. Lestat would grieve selfishly for the aspects of Louis he’d lost, but outwardly, he could do nothing else but support and respect Louis’s choice—if it were really his.

But now, seeing Louis’s true reaction, Lestat’s heart cracked in two. His grip tightened in alarm as Louis weakened, his arms coming around him to support his weight.

“He didn’t tell you…” Though Lestat’s voice was a whisper, the fury beginning to boil beneath it was obvious. Quickly, he came around Louis, standing between him and the mirror to block the vision, and he took him by the shoulders. “Did he trick you? Deceive you? Prey on your mind? Make you see things that weren’t real?”

Louis tried to find his footing again. He kept his eyes locked on Lestat to avoid the monster in the reflection, but he started to hyperventilate, a very human reaction that wasn’t necessary nor caused by anything but the ghost of human reflexes. “No,” he gasped. “He didn’t tell me. But…he didn’t trick me either. I asked him to bite me. I no longer wanted to be inexperienced in carnal matters. I wanted to come to you with some inkling of how to… Well, be loved by you.”

Carefully but firmly, Lestat pushed Louis backward, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed before he could collapse. He shook his head sharply, not believing Louis’s words. “It was a trick, Louis. That’s what he _does_. Everything he does is a lie!”

Turning away from him, Lestat ran his hands through his own hair, only then realizing how much they were shaking. He tried to take in what Louis had said about love, but he was too horrified by what Armand had done to him to really absorb or understand it.

“No…it’s not like that,” Louis said, trying to find the words and ward off his own dizziness even now that he was sitting. He shook his head again in attempt to focus on what he was trying to communicate. “I need to lay down.”

Lestat began to pace agitatedly beside the bed, practically tearing at his hair. How could Louis defend Armand for something like this? “He did it on purpose…” But why? And why now, after everything that had happened between them? After he and Lestat had grown so much closer. “He did it…” A sudden realization hit Lestat, and he stopped still and turned to Louis slowly. “Oh,” was all he managed to say, and then his own legs gave out, and he sank to sit on the rug, tears burning at the back of his eyes.

_That was exactly why._

Louis felt very small in this moment, his thoughts fleeting. He did not know what he needed, but he needed something. To make himself feel better, he shifted to lie prone on the bed, finding comfort in the smell of Lestat on the pillow. A comfort he did not know he would find. But not enough. “Please hold me,” he whispered. It was barely audible.

Everything was happening in slow motion. Lestat blinked back the burning in his eyes, and his face lifted slowly to look up at Louis. But his words cut through like a jolt, and Lestat straightened, moving to the side of the bed on his knees. From there, he buried his face against Louis’s chest, clinging to him as a wave of grief and guilt swept over him.

Louis draped his arms around him. “What’s become of me, Lestat?” he asked quietly, seeing nothing of Lestat’s pain through his own melancholia.

Shakily, Lestat lifted his face, making himself look at Louis’s again despite how the differences pained him to see. “Nothing,” he whispered, lying. He shifted up to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over Louis and taking his face tenderly between his hands. “Nothing that matters. You’re a little colder, a little harder, a little sharper. Perhaps you’ll hear things you couldn’t before, see further in the dark… But it doesn’t matter.” Maybe if Lestat said it enough times, it would be true…but internally, he was terrified what might change most was Louis’s heart, his inner softness, his love of mortality.

In his heart, Louis knew Lestat was lying. But for once, it didn’t bother him. He held on to each word for dear life as he turned his face into Lestat’s touch, in search of warmth which he logically would not find there. “Would you still love me like this?”

Lestat’s eyes moved over every part of Louis’s changed face. The question terrified him. It was exactly the most horrifying thing he could imagine. That the Louis he loved was gone, and this new Louis was a thing he could not love no matter how he tried.

How could Lestat know the true answer to this? He searched for it desperately as the silence stretched on between.

And this…this was exactly what Armand meant to do. To drive him and Louis apart by attempting to destroy what Lestat loved about him.

Because Armand wanted him for himself.

But did he succeed? Did it work?

Was Lestat’s Louis gone?

How could he know?

The lack of answer killed Louis, and the blood tears formed in his eyes. One rolled down his cheek.

As it slid against where Lestat’s hand cupped Louis’s face, the faint zinging feeling it left on his skin made Lestat shudder, and his own tears threatened to break through. He squeezed his eyes tight, blocking out the sight of Louis’s paler skin, and he tipped his head down until their foreheads pressed against each other.

Lestat _didn’t know_ the answer, not automatically or inherently… But he could choose it. And he was immediately determined to never let Armand’s plan succeed.

So he made his own answer.

“You are mine,” he whispered. “I made you, Louis, and you will always be mine.”

Another tear rolled down Louis’s cheek. “I do not doubt that…but that is different than loving me. You could have an old object that is technically yours, but you do not have to love it,” he whispered. “People keep things out of compulsion or obligation…not every parent loves their child.”

A soft gasp escaped Lestat that sounded almost like a sob, and his fingers curled into Louis’s hair. “Oh my god, shut up, Louis.” Tilting his face down, he kissed Louis on the mouth to make him stop saying such stupid things, his thumb brushing over the tear, wiping it away.

Even as Louis returned the kiss, he was trying to figure out how Lestat felt. But it was fruitless. There was so much more he had to say, but no words would come out. Lestat had effectively silenced him.

The kiss lingered as Lestat gently brushed away all traces of blood-tinged moisture from Louis’s face with faintly trembling fingers. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest at how Louis responded to him, and he suddenly felt sure that his choice was the correct one. Tenderly he pulled back enough to look at Louis again.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Lestat said softly.

“So did I… That’s what got me in this mess.” Louis’s voice cracked as he spoke. He took advantage of the silence that came after to listen to Lestat’s heart pounding.

Shifting back, Lestat straightened where he sat to look down at Louis more fully, regarding him with wonder. “You want me to love you?” _Actually_ wanted it? Maybe this entire night would turn out to be a dream after all.

“Yes,” Louis said. “If I didn’t love you myself, I would not put up with your nonsense.” A hollow smile tugged at his mouth. “But love cannot be forced… You know that. I know you do.”

Again with saying the stupid things! Lestat shook his head and put his hands on Louis’s chest, leaning over him a little. “But you want it? You, Louis?” He still couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and excitement began to brighten his eyes. “Truly want it?”

“Yes. I want it. I want _you._ ” He paused. “I love you. Je t’aime.” His tone had such a genuine warmth to it that it was impossible to mistake it for a lie. “I do not know how else to say it.”

An electric smile burst over Lestat’s face, but he immediately ducked his head against Louis’s chest again as if to hide it. His arms slid under Louis’s back, holding him tightly with sudden new energy. “You do!” he said, amazed, his voice muffled against him.

He’d always thought Louis hated the fact that he cared for Lestat in any way. That Louis wished he didn’t, never wanted the feelings at all. Lifting his head abruptly, he met Louis’s eyes again. “And you want to…” What was it Louis said a few minutes ago? “Experience ‘carnal matters’ with me?” He sounded like he would laugh.

As Louis’s normal disposition slowly returned, so did his self-consciousness, especially at being asked about such things so directly. “Yes…I’ve never…well, properly done much…” He chose his words carefully. “And I do not want to disappoint you.” He bit his lip, and try as he might, he could not make himself look away from Lestat.

Lestat did laugh at Louis then, though it was a sound of breathless delight, not mockery. In all the ways Louis had disappointed him throughout their life together so far, _this_ was what he was worried about? It was too funny. His face fell against Louis’s chest again, and he shook with the soft laughter, his arms tightening around him. “You’re unbelievable,” he said breathlessly. “My Louis…”

Louis was able to shake off his embarrassment with a bit of coaxing. “I feared you’d mock me and reject me for it. Armand told me that I was ridiculous when we discussed it…but then he offered to help me figure it out.” He paused. “There was no malice.” A blush colored his cheeks and a warmth washed over him. “Yes…I’m yours.”

The reminder of Armand put a damper on Lestat’s mirth, and he exhaled slowly. He knew Armand’s offer of _help_ was anything but. Lestat was furious with himself for allowing Armand back into his trust. He and Louis had both been so deceived while Armand smiled at them like an angel in their beds.

Lifting his face, Lestat worked one arm out from under Louis to put a hand against his flushed cheek. With the blush under his skin, Louis almost began to look like his old self again…if not for his eyes. He smiled at Louis sadly. “You’re a damned fool,” he said softly. “A perfect idiot.” He sighed. “And so am I.”

Turning his face into Lestat’s touch, Louis let out a soft, content sigh. “I suppose I am,” he said quietly. Although it was for a different reason than Lestat meant.

Climbing easily over Louis, Lestat got onto the bed and pulled him fully into his arms. He said nothing for a long time, simply held Louis, feeling his heart beat while he thought over all that had been said and done, trying to make silent sense of the parts he still didn’t understand.

Louis relished the feeling of so easily folding into his arms. It provided a sense of security he didn’t know he craved. In the moment, everything seemed like it would be alright.

Gently taking one of Louis’s hands, Lestat drew it up to where he could see it, brushing his thumb over the changed skin. Even the veins beneath were a slightly different shade. What a price to pay for a night of passion. The mournfulness of loss rose within his chest again, but he tried to battle it back, not wanting to trigger Louis’s feelings of monstrousness again, though it was difficult. “But Louis,” he said quietly, “don’t you ever sleep with mortals? I mean properly seduce them?”

“No…I have never had a desire to,” he confessed. “In order to even consider that, I’d have to get to know them…and then…well…I would probably go back to rats.”

Lestat sighed in frustration. “You really are impossible,” he murmured. He would have left it there, like he always did, revealing nothing of himself because he assumed Louis didn’t care or would hold it against him. But Louis’s honesty tonight made him push past that barrier. “I’m in a different mortal’s bed every other night,” he said as if it were the most normal of things. “Sometimes I kill them, sometimes I don’t.”

Louis’s self-consciousness again reared its ugly head. “I cannot help my nature, just as you cannot help yours.” There was no judgment in his voice. “But they don’t mean anything to you, do they?”

Lestat laughed low, turning his face against Louis’s hair, breathing him in. “Louis, they mean everything to me.” His arms tightened affectionately around him. “Come with me some time. I’ll introduce you to my friends. They’ll adore you. We’ll kill them together.”

Louis shifted closer against him, wanting more contact. “If I meet them, I would not want to kill them,” he said quietly. “If that is their fate, I will have to decline.”

A disappointed sigh passed Lestat’s lips. This was one fantasy he’d never have realized. Was there no way to make Louis understand there were no ‘matters’ more carnal than killing? Was simple attention all he really wanted? He lifted his face to look at Louis’s hand again, brushing his fingertips over the glassy nails. “No wonder you’re so desperate…”

Louis looked at him thoughtfully. There were several ways he could respond to that, but instead he rolled over to face Lestat properly, and then he buried his face in his chest.

Moving his arm back around him, Lestat slid his hand up into Louis hair and turned his face against the top of his head. Lestat would take desperation from Louis. He’d take anything from him he could get. “You’ll be all right,” he whispered, his lips moving against his hair. “Just…be careful with Armand.”

“You were right,” Louis muttered. He rarely uttered those words, especially to Lestat. “I’m sorry for not listening.” He pressed a soft kiss to Lestat’s collarbone.

Lestat’s train of thought was utterly derailed. To be kissed by Louis! He could melt. And yet, Louis’s words shot a knife of pain through him. How _sorry_ was Louis? Did he really loathe his new monstrousness so keenly?

That Louis was suffering for something _Armand_ did to him made Lestat’s anger bristle again and his arms tensed around Louis protectively. “He did this to you because of me,” he said almost too quietly to hear, his own sense of guilt resurfacing.

“No… He did this because of what I asked him. I didn’t know the result, but nothing was forced upon me.”

“He knew exactly how ignorant you were, and he took advantage of that,” Lestat murmured, but as if stating a fact for his own understanding, not trying to convince Louis of anything. What Louis believed hardly mattered. Lestat saw straight through Armand’s schemes to the heart of it all. And he was furious. Clinging to Louis now was the only thing keeping him from running off to find Armand that very moment to bash his head into a wall. But there would be time for that later.

“Please relax,” Louis entreated. “If it weren’t for him, I would not have a reason to speak so openly in this moment.” He made another attempt at it. “It feels good to be able to tell you how much I want you.”

Those last words were too effectively distracting. “You want me,” Lestat repeated, still amazed Louis not only actually reciprocated his feelings, but also didn’t loathe the fact that he did.

Louis said nothing further for some time. Instead, he pressed another soft kiss to Lestat’s collar bone. “Thank you.”

The gentle pressure of Louis’s lips made Lestat’s heart skip a beat, and his fingers in Louis’s hair curled, grazing his scalp. “For what?” he asked on the edge of his breath.

Louis did not even know what he meant. The feeling of Lestat’s fingers sifting though his hair clouded his thoughts. A soft sigh escaped him. “Dunno…being here,” he muttered, having to say something.

At that moment, Cordelia, who had finished all the dog food scattered across the kitchen floor nosed at the door Lestat had entirely neglected to close. She trotted into the room and jumped up on the bed, settling comfortably on the other side of Lestat.

Louis’s incoherence elicited a very soft laugh from Lestat. “You’re delirious, my friend.” He must be, considering he didn’t even complain about the dog in the bed with them. Much less the fact that thanking Lestat for anything was the last thing he deserved after all this.

Louis hummed his response. He knew he was tired, but delirious was not the word he would choose. He didn’t even notice the dog, which was a good thing for both the dog and Lestat. Dogs didn’t belong in beds.

“How do you feel?” Lestat asked cautiously, half dreading the answer. As different as Louis looked, he knew there must be internal changes as well.

“Tired…strange… I do not know how to describe it,” he admitted. Although the more accurate statement would be that he didn’t wish to think about it. He didn’t want to delve deeper into what made him this monster.

Lestat shifted back just enough to tilt Louis’s face up to where he could see it again. He somehow managed to hide the sorrow from his own eyes as he looked at him, merely appearing thoughtful instead. “Have you fed yet tonight?” he asked quietly. Lestat’s answer to any ill feelings was always blood and more blood. It would do Louis much better than sleep.

“No,” he said. “I came straight to you.” Louis studied Lestat’s expression, trying to understand what he was thinking, but one could never fully understand Lestat. “Why?”

Each slight moment of Louis’s changed eyes threatened to make Lestat lose his train of thought again. “It will do you good,” he murmured. “Make the strangeness fade beneath pleasure.” He curled the back of his fingers against Louis’s cheekbone. “Come hunt with me. Kill with me. I love to see you do it. I love it when the passion overtakes you.”

He’d take Louis out hunting now. And this time… This time when the climatic moment came, Lestat would not valiantly restrain himself from taking Louis in his arms. He would do all he longed to with Louis, wherever they happened to be.

And then… Well, if all this turned out to be a dream after all, may Lestat never awaken again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Lestat has a bone to pick with Armand.


	17. Garbage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestat seeks revenge for how Armand’s blood changed Louis.

When Lestat came home from hunting the following night, he could tell Louis was still out. Marius’s powerful heartbeat was likewise absent from the apartment. But he sensed Armand in the living room, and he immediately bristled. Lestat went past the door, ignoring him.

Finding Denis in the kitchen, he instructed the boy to take the dog for a very long walk. Now.

Then Lestat went to his own room, and it seemed he would stay there, avoiding Armand completely. Some minutes later, though, he came into the living room and walked right up to Armand’s armchair. He snatched the thick book Armand was reading out of his hands and flung it over his shoulder. The book hit the wall behind him with a thump as Lestat glared down at Armand silently. Although his mind remained as open as it had been during the night they’d spent together, his thoughts were incoherent.

Armand stared ahead as the copy of _Les Miserables_ he’d borrowed from Louis clattered to the floor, its pages rustling in a hollow complaint. There was little he could think to do or say. He knew without any insight into Lestat’s thoughts exactly to what he owed this intrusion, and he would be lying if he said he had expected it to be pleasant. “You’ve spoken to Louis, then?” he murmured, keeping his voice devoid of any emotion.

The indignation! Something in Lestat’s brain snapped, and he saw red. “You absolute beast,” he hissed, and he grabbed Armand by the front of his clothes, hauling him out of the chair. Spinning around, he pinned Armand the wall beside the fireplace with enough force to make him wince.

“I didn’t have to speak to him,” Lestat said, his voice hushed, lethal. “One look, and I could see what you’d done.”

“How is he?” was all Armand asked, a genuine echo of concern in his voice, though his eyes remained cool. If Louis was content with the outcome of the situation, he could see no fault in his actions.

Lestat flinched as if Armand had struck him. “How do you think?” he shouted. Armand could either figure it out for himself or easily observe the ever-repeating echo of Louis’s misery in Lestat’s enraged thoughts. The way Louis collapsed at the sight of himself in the mirror. The following anguish, the sheer _betrayal_ of it all to be so abused, especially compared to what Louis _thought_ Armand had been offering.

Lestat struck Armand hard across the face, then slammed him into the wall again with enough force to make the two porcelain vases on the mantle fall off and smash on the floor. Then he released Armand abruptly and stepped back.

It hurt, almost as much as when Marius struck him a few days previous, perhaps more for the passion behind it. Armand raised a hand to his cheek, brow furrowed, dazed from the onslaught of images that poured from Lestat’s mind. The sheer agony emanating from Louis was something he had never anticipated. To give him the blood was a privilege—a gift. To become more powerful and experience such pleasures of the flesh in the process. Who would not want it?

Then the answer struck Armand, as hard as Lestat hand had.

_Who?_ Someone who did not want to be vampiric. Someone to whom the very act of killing served as the most putrid of mortal sins. Someone who would cling to his humanity. _Louis._ The last thing Armand had ever intended was to hurt Louis. He brushed his fingertips along the blood that trickled down his cheek.

“Let me see him.” Armand needed to explain himself to Louis.

Lestat laughed. The request was so hilariously absurd. “He doesn’t want your explanations,” he snapped. His hands shot up, and he caught Armand by the neck, pinning him to the wall again as if he’d strangle the life out of him right there. Lestat leaned over him, his face very close. “They mean nothing now. How could you?” he hissed. “Devil without a soul.” His thumbs dug into the hollow of Armand’s throat, as if he’d pop them through his skin to tear it apart.

Armand’s hands shot to Lestat’s arms out of instinct, though he made no attempt to pull them away. He took in Lestat’s furious eyes, such a far cry from not two nights past when they had reclined together in harmony such that it seemed they should never be apart.

His mind remained open to Lestat as he promised it would, his own thoughts dominating him as his body gasped for air. Armand was elsewhere now, as he thought of Louis. Lestat could have crushed his windpipe and his thoughts would continue. Devil without a soul, indeed. He made to speak, but couldn’t aloud. _Is he not more powerful?_ he asked mentally instead. _More open to you? Does he not covet you as he never did? Did he tell you how he begged for it?_ Armand had not done this with ill intentions. He urged Lestat to see that.

Every last psychic word that beat into Lestat’s brain enraged him further. _More powerful_ meant Louis was more miserable, driving him further into despair. That Armand would take credit for Louis’s _openness_ and _coveting_ was so condescending, Lestat could have destroyed him on the spot. But _begged for it?_ Lestat’s anger flipped from red into white hot.

He believed nothing of Armand’s _intentions_ beyond his perpetual, desperate, monstrous need to control and destroy everything around him. This betrayal was a thousand times worse than Armand’s past ones because it wasn’t just Lestat’s heart Armand broke—again!—but Louis’s as well.

Lestat screamed something at him then, incoherent rage, and he twisted around, throwing Armand across the room. His body would have gone straight through the wall into the kitchen if not for it being caught by an ornate accent table which smashed under him, slowing his trajectory. He landed in a pile of splintered wood on the floor. Lestat shot after him, pouncing on him.

A small gash had opened at Armand’s temple, a tear of blood running down the side of his face. Lestat licked it roughly. He’d tear Armand apart piece by piece this time. Then the little beast could never hurt any of them again.

At the rake of Lestat’s tongue upon his cheek, something visceral sparked in Armand. It was such a violation, such a rancid, perverse action. His soul left his body. He saw himself on that dingy boat cast away from Kiev, being raped in every way by those fetid slavers. He saw himself on the market in Constantinople, laughed at, mocked, inspected like cattle. He saw himself starving to death in the Venetian brothels as bodiless hands groped at every inch of his body, he saw Harlech laying claim to him, Santino tearing him from Marius, from everything he’d ever allowed himself to love. In that moment, he felt every despicable slight delivered upon him by lecherous men in his five centuries of life.

Out of instinct, out of self-defense, he took a sizable splinter of wood from beneath him and slashed Lestat across the face with it viciously, scrambling from under him. He wanted to scream contemptible things, about how Louis had writhed against him, moaned for him, found his first release with him, to make Lestat feel as lesser in that moment as Armand had just been made to feel. But even in this moment, he found he could not dishonor Louis aloud in such a way.

The onslaught of Armand’s thoughts hit Lestat so violently that he reeled, barely even capable of feeling the deep wound Armand inflicted, his mind was overwhelmed. But Lestat’s heart did not react with pity or remorse. Instead, it fueled his anger as the memory of the night they fought in Paris fifteen years ago rose in reply. How wretchedly Armand had deceived his mind so that he could sink his fangs in, intent on draining Lestat’s blood to steal his power.

If such violation was so repulsive to Armand, then it only made Lestat loathe him further for doing it to him then and now Louis. Armand’s every thought of Louis now drove like needles under Lestat’s skin.

“TAKE ME TO HIM NOW!” Armand bellowed, his throat parched, his face and eyes a veritable font of the trauma churning within him.

The blood ran down Lestat’s face as he marshaled his focus, pinning Armand in his sight, and then he leapt and tackled him. They slammed into the couch, knocking it over backward with a crunch and rolled back onto the floor. Lestat pinned him with a knee on Armand’s chest and he struck him over and over again, his mind repeating _Never, never, never,_ in reply to Armand’s demand as his own blood dripped down on him with thick splats.

The attack was relentless. At some point Armand sensed Louis return to the apartment, but he could do nothing to react to his presence, so powerful and rapid were Lestat’s blows. He made to speak, but he almost choked on his own blood.

But Armand needed to see Louis, see the damage he had caused, to gather Louis’s own feelings. He struck out at Lestat in his own futile attempts to catch a glimpse of Louis, and then in a last ditch effort, Armand sent a telepathic blast against Lestat’s mind.

Oblivious to anything but Armand amid a sea of red from the rage in his mind and the blood in his eyes, Lestat was on an upswing when he felt his mind tear. He lost his balance, falling backward against the toppled couch, but he was faster than Armand, catching him before he could get up. Lifting him over his head, Lestat threw him again, sending him like a pinwheel into the wall hard enough to crack it, chunks of it tumbling down into the next room.

Meanwhile, Louis stood in the doorway, frozen in horror. He had been walking alone through the streets of New York. He’d needed space to internalize what had been done to him…and what he had done in return. Lestat had been right. He felt different. He didn’t exactly like it. His body felt foreign again. Every glance at his hands further reminded him how inhuman he was.

Now he stared at the furniture in disarray and the two vampires at each other’s throats. There was no doubt in his mind that he was the cause. “Stop!” he demanded. “Can’t we talk about this?” he added timidly.

Lestat’s head snapped in Louis’s direction, his eyes filled with rage as if for Louis daring to interrupt them.

Armand took this breathless moment to finally steal a glance at Louis. Or what he hoped was a glance. From the taste of his own blood and the way his features felt about his face, he would be surprised if any of his expressions worked as intended. But he could see clearly enough. And Louis’s appearance was perceptibly different. His true vampiric nature shined like a beacon, the softness of his eyes, the hue of his complexion altered. But in his soul, the anguish Louis felt, the timidity with which he spoke, these things were still Louis.

Armand felt about in his mouth with his tongue. A few teeth had been loosened. “Louis…I should have told you,” he attempted. He hoped everything he meant to say by this was encapsulated, though he was unsure if his words were even discernible.

Lestat staggered as he stood and braced himself on an end table, but he accidentally put too much force on it, and it crumpled under his hand. He caught himself and turned his back on Louis to face Armand again. “Go away, Louis,” he ordered as he stalked across the room to where Armand had landed.

Louis shrank, frightened. He would not dare to cross Lestat in such a state. He did not trust that he wouldn’t be destroyed in the process. “Please” he begged as he finally got his feet to start moving again. Louis took a few steps back to show that he was obeying.

Armand gazed up at Lestat in all his ferociousness, breath hitching. He felt fear. _Don’t be afraid of me_ … That was what Lestat had asked of him the other night, assured him. But how could Armand not be? When Lestat loomed over him like this, threatening to tear him out of existence? Although his mind remained open to Lestat, there was nothing he could do against the closing of his heart to him in that moment. “You’ve won,” Armand whispered, hoping to deter the fight for Louis’s sake. Lestat had gotten what he’d wanted, surely. He’d wounded Armand in more ways than one. He’d made his point.

Lestat would have laughed at him again, felt he should at the sheer monstrous hypocrisy of Armand’s inner pain. But there was only a great blackness where the source of all Lestat’s laughter used to be. Lestat had gotten _nothing that he wanted_ , feeling only more frustrated now than he had when this started. He hadn’t _won_ anything, and they both knew it, and that made his violent feelings toward Armand surge all the more.

_Garbage_ , he said with his mind. That’s all Armand was in the end. _Foul creature made of lies and deception and utterly incapable of love or goodness_. His hand shot up as if he’d beat Armand again, but it froze in the air, his fist trembling. _Not even worth this,_ he said. Then Lestat turned abruptly and left the room, shoving past Louis to go down the hall to his own room. The door slammed behind him.

Louis stumbled. He could not help but to feel guilty, and part of him regretted saying anything at all. Rather than stay with Armand or follow Lestat, he made his way to the apartment’s front door and left. The door slammed louder than Louis intended. A strange mix of pain and numbness flowed through him, the latter only further evoking his sense of self loathing.

In his room, Lestat slid to the floor, leaning against his bed, his breath ragged at first, but gradually evening out. His head felt close to splitting from all of Armand’s psychic onslaughts, and he cringed to try to clear the pain. Across the room, his reflection in the full length mirror showed the bloody gash on his face healing into a jagged scar. The blood had smeared on his shirt as well, damn it. He pulled it off and used it to wipe the last of the blood from his face and hair, then threw it in a crumpled ball on the floor.

The images Armand had silently projected to him of how Louis had acted in bed with him repeated on a morbid loop in Lestat’s mind. His head fell back against the bed, and he sat there for a long time, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself.

Eventually, it began to feel like the room was stifling him, pressing in on all sides. He needed air. Pushing up, he went to the window, throwing it open, and climbed out on the fire escape. The bare skin of his chest and arms glowed in the night, but he didn’t care about the danger of being seen. Couldn’t even think about that now. And he was still nowhere close to feeling calmer when Denis passed by on the street below on his way back to the apartment with the dog.

Lestat called down and told him to wait. Slipping back into his room, he pulled a long sleeved t-shirt out of the dresser and put it on along with his motorcycle jacket. But as he stared into the open drawer, he realized that if he stayed here in this apartment, he very well might kill Armand. Or do something worse. Making a decision, Lestat grabbed a few more handfuls of clothes and stuffed them into a leather backpack along with his computer and phone, then without bothering to even close the drawers or turn off the lights, he went back out the window, leaving it open behind him.

Climbing down the fire escape was easy enough, as was jumping the last ten feet to the sidewalk where Denis waited. Lestat took the dog’s leash from him and put a hundred dollar bill into Denis hand, instructing him to go see a movie before coming back home. Then he turned and walked to Church St.

As he passed the corner of the front side of their block, he saw Louis’s profile in the dark on their building’s stoop down the street. Lestat paused, but a feeling of disgust welled up in him, the origin of which he could not pinpoint.

He made himself turn away and walked the short distance to the Roxy Hotel where he booked a dog-friendly room for two nights.


	18. Unworthy of the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armand and Louis have a painful conversation about what happened.

On the living room floor, Armand lay amid the toppled and destroyed furniture and did nothing but breathe until even his own breath became an infernal sound to him. His heart hammering in his chest became so invasive that he wanted to tear it out to silence it. He wanted to tear everything from himself, though he made no effort to move.

Lestat’s words cut bitterly into him, only for the truth of them. _Garbage_ , yes. A foul creature, hellbent on deception. Armand was so utterly devoid of love, so undeserving of it. He had been unaware of his own intentions at the time, but how could his seduction of Louis have been anything but malicious?

For an hour perhaps, though he couldn’t have known, Armand remained there. The window curtains were pulled back, a nightly effort on his part to appreciate the city views from the apartment’s height. If he did not deign to move, he could be reduced dust in a few hours, and all this would be over. Though did he even deserve that? Did such a creature incapable of goodness deserve such respite?

Armand understood again, as though finally finding his way after being lost for so long, why Santino had sent him underground. He understood it then. A thing like him should stay there, should rot with the worms and the scum and the putrefying remains of all things else unworthy of the light. A thing like him deserved to be slighted by men as he had, as Lestat had brought upon him. A thing like him did not deserve love.

With this thought, he dragged the weight of his body into a sitting position. He touched his face carelessly, numb to the pain. Though his features had realigned, he estimated that it would be a good few hours before all wounds were healed. Good. Would that they never heal. He stood and began to make slow and silent work of fixing what he could of the room, filling his aimlessness with something.

This was how Louis found him when he reentered the flat, still trying his damnedest to keep the loathsome numbness away. To feel was to be human. Even if it meant feeling pain. Louis went down the hall to Lestat’s room first. When his knock received no answer, he tried the door. The emptiness beyond and the open window made the pain all the more acute. Once again, he entered the living room. He watched Armand rearrange the furniture for a few moments before wordlessly approaching to help him.

Armand had to steel himself against unnecessary malice. Of all the people who did not deserve to suffer for this, Louis was at the top of the list. He should not be here. After scraping as much of the first broken table as possible into a pile, he retrieved the borrowed book from the floor and held it out for Louis, gaze fixed downward. What right had he to look into such eyes? “Go.” He spoke softly, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. “Go to him or something. Be anywhere but here.”

Louis frowned. He was not surprised to be pushed away, but it still hurt. He took the book and clutched it to his body. “He’s not here… We need to talk.” He let out a sigh as Armand turned away. “Please.” A sense of urgency colored his tone.

Armand sighed almost angrily, clenching his fists and turning to Louis again. “I am sorry. My actions were reckless and thoughtless. It did not occur to me that you would not desire the blood or its lasting effects. I should have explained it to you. It was not my intention to hurt you in any way, and for that, I do not ask forgiveness, but must apologize.” He allowed himself to look into Louis eyes then, only to convey his sincerity before his countenance fell cold again. There. They’d talked. He turned once more and busied himself with trying to fix the room. It was not that he wanted to make Louis feel unwanted, but Louis should be off somewhere doing lovely things, not vying for the attentions of a wretched sewer rat.

“No… I’d asked for it,” Louis said, although it was true he didn’t know what he was asking for. “I did not mean for Lestat to act the way he did. I did not want to keep a secret from him.” He hesitated as he tried to find his thoughts. With Lestat gone and Armand pushing him away, he felt utterly rejected. “I forgive you,” he muttered before turning to leave the room.

A pang of guilt shot through Armand. “Louis, wait,” he called, and it made Louis stop.

Armand was so torn. To be around him would be to manipulate Louis, such was Armand’s nature. To push him away, however, would be to punish him for this. Louis, perfect Louis, who’d given himself to Armand so completely and had gained nothing but heartbreak in return. Louis who had wanted nothing less than for Lestat and Armand to tear each other apart over this. Louis who needed someone now that his maker was in disarray, though the only one who could be there for him was the very monster who violated him in the first place.

No, Armand would not push him away. Although he hated himself more thoroughly in this moment than he could hate anyone, and although he felt as though he’d never be deserving of light or love or laughter again, to suffer alone was selfish. The true punishment would be to allow Louis the comfort that he needed, knowing that someone so pure and wonderful should never even stoop to look nor think upon him. “I do not expect your forgiveness,” Armand reiterated. He could not force himself to look welcoming or kind or happy. “Please, why don’t you stay as I fix this mess? You may talk if you still feel you need to.”

“Let me help you,” Louis said, remaining ambiguous about what he was referring to exactly. “You may not be expecting my forgiveness, but you have it.” He started arranging the seat cushions back in their proper places. There was a lot he wanted to talk about, but he could not find the right words.

Armand stilled, body tenser than before. That damnable perfection, the sheer honor and courage and righteousness and energy that a mentality such as Louis’s must take. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the sting of tears, to slake his fury. Fury, yes, for how could Louis be kind enough? How could he not see that Armand was not worth his forgiveness? Not worth his time, not worth anything. “Then you are perhaps the strongest of us all,” he said quietly, moving to the toppled couch. “How do you feel?”

Louis’s anxieties made his own muscles tense even as he made his best effort not to let them affect him further. “Please don’t flatter me,” he pleaded before falling silent to consider whether or not he should truthfully answer Armand. The last thing he wanted was to admit how terrible he felt and make the situation worse. Yet there was a part of him that felt he owed Armand some honesty.

At the lack of an answer, Armand raked his eyes over Louis, his expression softening. “It hasn’t changed you completely, you know,” he offered, an almost imperceptible ghost of a smile in his eyes. “It’s about your soul. How you react to it. Your love of humanity will always radiate from within. When you next see Marius, look at him. Truly look at him. He is the picture of goodness, of gentleness. After eighteen hundred years, there is an inexplicable human quality to him, the glint in his eye, the quirk of his lip. I look like an inhuman monster devoid of love and worth because I am one.” A trace of bitterness infiltrated his voice, though he fought against it for Louis’s sake. “But you,” Armand continued, “you are like him. And your old countenance may even return somewhat, with time.” He hoped that if Louis was looking for comfort, he could found it in that. Armand could not bear the thought of bedding him and leaving him empty.

In truth, Marius intimidated Louis, and he had been making an effort not to cross paths with him. “I will take your word for that,” he said, still sounding unconvinced. Louis shook his head. “But if you keep telling yourself you’re a monster, you’ll become one soon enough.” He seemed unaware of the irony of this statement. “You’re not a monster, Armand. If you were, you wouldn’t be here trying to make me feel better.”

Armand would have laughed, hollowly, bitingly, if this had been Lestat. Because if Lestat had said it, it would have been laced with sarcasm. But this was Louis, and Louis truly believed this nonsense. “So I’ve manipulated you again. In what, the space of a minute?” he said emptily, eyes ablaze with self-loathing. There was truly nothing he could do to quash this part of him. “That’s a new record for me.”

“No… I don’t think so,” Louis said. “Give me some credit. I’m not a puppet.” A note of bitterness rang in his voice as sadness swam in his eyes. “Please.”

Armand blinked, as if trying to make sense of his own thoughts. Was this the truth, or had he been influencing Louis’s thoughts to the most minute detail, as was his infuriating habit when it was not even his intention? He decided to humor Louis, at least to give him some respect. “No, you are not a puppet.” He sighed, rubbing his bruised eyes in an effort to wipe the strain and weariness from them. “I think you’ll be all right.”

“I’ll live,” Louis said. “But I’m damaged goods now. Lestat took one look at me and… I can tell he is putting on an act for my sake. But as soon as I manage, he’ll find someone better.” Why did he suddenly feel compelled to vomit every thought that plagued his mind? The heat of blood tears put pressure on his eyes. “I don’t blame him,” he muttered.

“Don’t be stupid,” Armand shot, but then he softened, knowing he had been too harsh. He walked close enough to offer some comfort but didn’t attempt to touch Louis. He had no right to. “Lestat will get over it. You are his fledgling. He chose you.” Armand echoed Marius’s words to him of a few days prior, understanding the weight behind them now. “I’ve already told you that your soul is still the same, Louis, and that is what he chose. Not your face, pretty as it is.”

Louis shook his head. “He barely looks at me now,” he argued. “I can see it in his eyes.” He had to pause to will back the tears that continued to threaten. “I was thinking… Maybe I should go back to New Orleans. Just for a while. This way things can…simmer down.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Armand repeated, his face a picture of panic. “Don’t you go! Not because of me. This is my fault. If you go, you go with him, and you take my maker, and you leave me to rot!” He found himself a veritable fount of feelings now. Perhaps Louis had influenced him for once. Armand began to pace erratically. This was one thing he didn’t think he could come back from, seeing Lestat and Louis torn apart because of him. This was not at all what he’d intended. What he’d done with Louis, it had been a stupid mistake. “Promise me, Louis. Promise me you’ll stay long enough to see him return. Then I’ll make him look at you. I’ll use every mind trick I have to make him look at you!”

Louis’s brow furrowed and his expression saddened. What were mind tricks? Lestat had never spoken of such things. Nevertheless, he slumped onto the sofa to show that he wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, he would not last very long if he did leave. He did not know how to be on his own. He knew that much to be true.

Armand turned to hide his expression. The blood tears had come to him unbidden with his sudden release of emotion after stifling it since the fight. Perhaps they were tears of relief for Louis agreeing to stay. He tried to blink them away. If he dried them, Louis would see that he had shed them, potentially be concerned, and once again be conned into caring for him.

“Just wait it out, please,” Armand entreated. “I know it’ll get better. You will not have to suffer my company much these next few days, I promise it.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Louis said, staring down at his paler hands. “Perhaps if I use cosmetics, I can make myself look presentable enough for Lestat. Maybe he’ll look at me again.” He was speaking more to himself than to Armand now.

Armand’s heart broke at this. “You don’t need to fix yourself, Louis.” He spoke carefully, breathing against the tears as they flowed faster. He knew Lestat loved Louis in a way that no one could ever love Armand. Because Louis was good, and pure, and gentle and smart, and Armand was a veritable goblin behind a pretty face.

Louis stood up. “I need to lie down,” he said quietly. “I… will be in my room if you need me.” In his heart of hearts, he knew that Armand was right. But that small voice that said otherwise screamed the loudest in his mind.

Armand almost felt a relief as Louis left, that he was free to feel without judgment. He continued to fix the living room, his mind elsewhere as he moved mechanically. He could not control his tears now, and their blood layered onto the drying bloodstains from the fight. He brushed his fingers over a splatter on the carpet. Something… something about it told him that it was Lestat’s.


End file.
